


Isabella’s Baby

by mrgoldsdearie



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, F/M, Magical Pregnancy, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-05-29 07:08:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6364342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrgoldsdearie/pseuds/mrgoldsdearie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumbelle AU inspired by the movie concept of Rosemary's Baby - Alasdair and Isabella Gold have been trying to start a family for the past six months, but have been unsuccessful. Alasdair is visited by a mystical man who offers him a deal to changing his future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Desperate Soul

**Author's Note:**

> This story is more inspired by the concept of the movie rather than a rewriting of the movie in a OUAT world, like I did with the first chapter of The Gold Motel. It will have the horror elements of Rosemary’s Baby without religious factors or others issues I’m not comfortable writing. The current Rumbelle canon drove me into writing this story. The last thing I needed was another WIP fic, but here we are. I hope those who read this first chapter enjoys. The story is gonna be a roller coaster. Happy reading.

He thrusts his cock inside his wife.

“Ah… Ah…”, Isabella Gold blissfully moans, digging her painted nails into his back. Rolling her hips with the rhythm of his lunges.

“Oh… Belle,” Alasdair murmurs. Feeling himself going over the edge, but he holds back his intense urge to cum a little longer. His wife isn't quite ready.

“Mmm…”, she hums, drawing his face into hers for a kiss, forcing her tongue into his moist warm mouth.

He breaks away from her luscious lips and sits up on his knees, gripping solidly to her waist. “You're not ready yet.” He drives inside her with a single robust thrust.

“Ah!” Her body jerks with the force of his prod. “No,” she breathes thickly, clawing her nails into the soft mattress.

“But you're almost there.” Slams his rigid cock within her again.

“Ah!” Her body quivers with the orgasm lightly tingling at her core. “Yes.”

“Let me help you get there,” he says husky, spreading her legs wider. He plunges into her drenched center with vigor,  relentlessly stimulating her pink pearl with his thumb.

“Ah!... Fuck!”, she cries, turning her head away from Alasdair, closing her eyes tightly, curling her toes. She grips the pillow underneath her head, trying to anchor down her body.

Isabella is about to lose control.

“Oh. Fuck. Belle,” he grunts. Pumping with vitality within her hot wet walls, quickening the movement of his thumb against her clit. “I'm… Cumming… Belle…”. His skin burns a bright shade of fuchsia, filling with warmth, as his balls begin to tremble, anticipating the release.

“Me too…” Her muscles clench around his penetrating manhood.

“Ungh,” he groans in ecstasy as his head falls back lost in the sexual bliss.  

Intense pressure coils up deep within them both, tightening their body until they can’t stand anymore.

“Ah!” Isabella digs the back of her head into the pillow, arching her back. She lunges her hips forward, giving into the explosion of pleasure between her thighs. “Ah! Fuck!” Her body ripples with orgasmic release.

Alasdair clenches his jaw and jerks his hips as his cock erupts strenuously, expelling thick, white gobs of cum inside his wife.

She melds into the bed, catching her breath, bathing his rod with her sweet nectar.

He holds himself deep inside her for several moments, body shivering, as he gains back his strength. Making love to his beautiful wife for the second time today has taken a lot out of his fifty-two year old body.

He wipes the sweat from his brow then pulls his softening cock out from her pulsating pussy. “It's starting to drip, sweetheart,” he alerts her.

“Oh no.” She immediately closes her legs. “We have to keep it in for at least fifteen minutes. Quick, put a pillow underneath my back.”

He snatches up a pillow from the head of the bed and scoots it under his wife to elevate her hips. “Does this really work?” He lies down beside her, kissing her warm voluptuous breast.

“I read about it.” She holds her legs up in the air, trying to increase their chances. “There's no evidence to prove or disprove that it works. I just thought it wouldn't hurt to try.”

“No, sweetheart.” He kisses her soft lips. “It doesn't hurt to try.”

Isabella and Alasdair Gold have been happily married a little over four years. They live in a large pink Victorian style manor in the quaint little town of Storybrooke Maine. And for the past six months, Isabella and Alasdair have been trying to build a family. But their efforts have been unsuccessful.

“It must have been a heavy load if it started dripping out,” Isabella says, lowering her legs and cuddles in her husband's arms.

“I suppose it was.” He kisses the crown of her head, holding her close against his chest.

“You were such a beast today. There's no way I won't get pregnant after this.”

“You're so flattering, Belle.”

“Well it's true.” She peppers sweet kisses upon his hairless chest. “I'm surprised I haven't gotten pregnant just by laying next to you every night. You're so handsome.”

“Oh, Belle,” he cheeks bloom a pink tinge. His loving wife still has the power to make him blush. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” She reaches behind herself and takes hold of blanket hanging off the side of the bed, then covers them both in it's warmth. “Besides your incredible performance, our timing was right. I'm glad I was able to calculate my most fertile days.”

“So am I, sweetheart.” He combs his fingers through her silky brunette threads. “I know you'll get pregnant this time.”

“You do?”

“Yes, my love. I can sense it’s going to happen. You’re going to be the best mother in the world.”

“And you're going to get to be a father again.”

“Yes.” He kisses the crown of her head again, once, twice, three times. Alasdair Gold loves his wife more than his own life. “I do get to be a father again.”

##  **\-----**

_[Ten days later]_

Alasdair counts the inventory in the pawn and antique shop he owns down on Storybrooke’s Main Street.

Though their family will never have the worry of financial sorrows, - The couple owns almost every building in town. - Alasdair and Isabella still work every day of the week.

As he counts the stock of crystal figurines stored in the back of the shop, the tiny bell at the door’s entrance suddenly rings.

Alasdair steps out from the back room, finding the radiant smile of his wife waiting for him behind the glass display counter.

“I thought this was my week to pick you up from the library for lunch.” He limps to the register, supporting his weight on a black cane with a gold handle.

“I couldn't wait any longer,” her unforgettable Australian accent fills the room.

“For lunch? You must be really hungry, sweetheart,” he says with a flirtatious grin.

“Don't be silly, Alasdair,” she giggles to herself and rest her books bag on the counter. “I picked one up on my way here.” She digs through the bag and pulls out an unopened pregnancy test.

“Oh, now I see why you couldn't wait.”

“Mhm…” She opens the box, taking out the little pen like piece of plastic. “This is a different brand. They didn't have this kind at the store last the time we bought one. This one’s more expensive and it's suppose to be more accurate than all the others.”

“I see,” he smiles, taking in the luminescent expression of hope on her face. He'd do anything to make sure she was this happy everyday. “So, I take it you're going to need to use my restroom.” He pokes a bit a fun at her.

“Mhm,” she hums with a nod.

“You know I only let paying customers inside. You're going to have to buy something Mrs. Gold.”

“But I don't wanna buy anything," she replies, revealing a coy smile of invitation on her face.

“Well, then I can't let you go.”

“What if I offered you something instead?” She slowly leans over the counter.

He tilts into her. “What could you possibly have that I’d want?”

She presses her lips gently against his.

“Mmm…”, he hums, savoring her taste.

She nips at his bottom lip as she slowly pulls away. “How was that as payment?”

“I think you overpaid, Mrs. Gold. Now I have to let you have your pick of anything in the shop.”

“Just using your restroom will suffice. Like I said, I don't wanna buy anything.”

“Very well,” he flashes a satisfied smirk.

“Behind that serious expression you show the rest of the town.” She kisses him again and leans back from the counter. “I'm the only one who gets to see how goofy you can really be. And I love every part of you.”

“Now I'm getting anxious because you're stalling,” he chuckles at his reply, arching a brow.

“Okay, okay.” She picks up the little box from the counter and takes a step back. “I'll go.”

“Good.” He watches as she strolls to the restroom.

Moments pass as Alasdair waits for his wife to emerge from the restroom as an overjoyed new mother. But it's taking so long for her to return. None of the other test took this much time to give an answer and now he's starting to worry.

“Belle?” He knocks on the restroom door. “Are you alright?”

Isabella doesn't reply.

“Please answer me, sweetheart.” He presses his ear to the door, hearing faint whimpering on the other side. His heart shatters with every sniffle. “I'm coming inside, Belle.”

“Please don't. I don't want you to see me like this.”

“It isn't the first time I've seen you this way.” He places his hand on the knob. “You need me, Belle. Please don't be like this.” Opens the door, finding his beloved wife standing over the sink with her head hanging low. He can see the tears on her face from the reflection in the mirror. “Oh, sweetheart, not again.”

“I told you not to come in here.”

“I couldn’t just stand outside that door.” He gimps inside, noticing the used test on the floor. He picks it up, seeing the negative sign that’s all too familiar for them. “This could be inaccurate.” Tosses the test in the trash.

“A test taken after seven days should be accurate.” She turns to face her husband, tears of sorrow burning in her eyes. The only thing she desperately wants in the world is to be a mother. “And we waited ten!”, she weeps.

“Oh, Belle,” he steps to her with open arms, ready to lovingly embrace her.

“Don't touch me, Alasdair.” She raises her arm, stopping him from coming any further. “Please don't touch me.” Her body trembles with distress.

He stares at his wife with broad teary eyes. Never has she refused his touch. “Isabella…”, his lips quivers as he speaks her full name, wishing there was something he could do to heal her agony.

“It's me,” she confesses.

Isabella has blamed herself ever since the first test was negative. She bottled up her true feeling deep inside and now she divulges them to her husband.

“I'm the problem,” she cries. “I'm the reason why we can’t have children.”

“That's not true.”

“It is true! We both know it!”, she yelps back at him. “You've had a son already,” she lowers the anger in her voice. “There's nothing wrong with you.”

“Isabella, th-th-that was thirty years ago,” he stutters, feeling the anguish of them both in this moment. “It could be my fault now. There could be something wrong with me.” Tears stream down his cheek.

“It's not you!”  She storm out of the restroom.

He limps after her. “Don't go. Please don't go.” Rests his hand on her shoulder, turning her back to face him. “We have to talk about this.”

“There's nothing to talk about. I'm going to see a doctor. I need know why I can't have children.”

“That is something to talk about, sweetheart.”

“Well I don't want to talk about it now.” She snatches up her bag from the counter, swings it around her shoulder, and marches to the exit.

“Where are you going?”

“I'm going back to the library.”

“You shouldn’t go back to work like this.”

She ignores his plea.

“What about lunch?” He tries to convince her to stay with the only card he has left.

“I'm not hungry anymore.”

“Please, Isabella,” he begs her to stay with him.

She pushes open the glass door. “I'll see you tonight,” she says, without turning back to look at him, and leaves the shop.

##  **\-----**

Alasdair stands motionless and alone in the middle of his shop, staring at the door where his wife stormed out sobbing of another broken heart. He hates this feeling of uselessness brewing in the pit of his stomach. Why can't he give Isabella the one thing she truly desires?

He can offer her any material possession in the world, but to carry and birth her own child is a gift in life he can not bestow upon his beloved.

Alasdair Gold slowly fumes with rage and grief.

Enraged over the path their life has unexpectedly turned. Grieving for the child that they will never have.

Alasdair breathes heavily, grinding his teeth and suddenly grips the shaft of his cane with both hands. He rotates to the counter on his right side and sends the gold tipped cane thundering down upon the glass. Shattering it and the profitable antiques inside.

“Fuck!”, he wails in torment. “Fuck!... Fuck!... Fuck!...” Howls every time his cane connects to the obliterated counter.

He circles to destroy the display case behind him, but his eyes are surprisingly met with a set of another gazing back at him.

“Ahhh!!”, Alasdair hollers, stumbling back against the counter, nearly tripping over all the broken items on the floor.

An impish man with glittery, greenish gold, skin and reptilian like eyes, stands in the center of the shop. “Hi,” he says with a giggly voice and a flourish of his hand with claw like nails.

Despite this man’s uncanny appearance, he dresses extravagantly in a well tailored suit of crocodile leather. Accompanied with an even more extravagant pair of leather, laced, knee high, pointed toe boots.

“Who the hell are you?”, Alasdair barks.

“Well you sure can make a mess, dearie.” The lizard man strolls around the shop as if he owns the place. “Hehehehe, I like it.” Claps his hands in amusement.

Alasdair Gold can not believe what he's witnessing. This creature with the same facial features and body structure as his own just appeared in his shop from absolutely nowhere.

“Why do you look like me?”, Alasdair raves, deliriously. “What the hell is going on? Am I dreaming this?”

“And I thought you'd like the way I look,” the imp pouts with a frown.

“No, I don't,” Alasdair yelps, still trying to make some sense of this ominous situation.

“Would you like for me to change?”, the scaly man asks, hooding his large green eyes at Alasdair.

“You can do that?”

“Yes,” he rapidly nods his head with a childlike expression on his face.  

“Will you do that?” This man’s familiar appearance makes Alasdair extremely uncomfortable.

“Ummm…” He cuts his eyes away for a moment, mind lost in thought. “No!”, swiftly answers, followed by another high pitched giggle.

Alasdair buries his face in his hands, trying the rub out the image of this delusion from his eyes. Convincing himself that all of this is a dream. He must have passed out from distress the moment Isabella left.

He lowers his hands from his face, hoping to find that his day trip is over, but it isn't. The sparkly skinned hallucination still resides in his shop and shorting through the books on the bookcase behind the register.

“I know what you're trying to do, dearie.” The leather clad creature tosses the book in his hand to the floor. “You're trying to convince yourself that this isn't real.”

“This isn't real!”, Alasdair demands.

“I'm as real as the pain in your right leg and your wife at the library.”

“What do you know about my wife?” He staggers to the register. “What have you done to her?”

“Well I haven't done anything to your wife,” he replies defensive. “And it appears that we’re starting this partnership on the wrong foot.” He disappears in a haze a purple smoke and instantly reappears behind Alasdair. “I must introduce myself.”

Alasdair quickly turns to face him. That strange magic could not have been real. “Stop it with all of these theatrics and tell me who the hell you are,” he orders.

The lizard man gasps with an animated expression of shock on his face. “Theatrics!”, says offended, dramatically pointing his forefinger in the air.

Alasdair gawks back at him, puzzled.

“Mmm… Well… Everyone's a critic,” he shrugs and suddenly bows before Alasdair gracefully, arms stretched out on both sides. “I go by many names.” Slowly lifts his head. “But I'm more commonly known as The Dark One," snarls his name like the vicious beast he appears to be.

Something about those three little words - _The Dark One_ \- sends shivers down Alasdair’s spine and he wants no part in whatever his reasons for being here are.

“Get out of my shop!”, Alasdair orders.

“I can help you,” The Dark One replies.

“I don't need your help.”

“By the looks of your shop, dearie, ya do.”

“What could you possibly help me with?”

“Oh… I don't know…”, says with a shrug and slithers around Alasdair, pretending to know nothing of what he can do to help. “Hmmm…” Taps his finger on his chin as if he's thinking. “Maybe with you and your wife’s little problem.” He stops in front of Alasdair and leans in close to him. “A baby,” growls through his uneven, stained, teeth.

Alasdair’s eyes widens and his heart suddenly stops. No one else knows that they've been trying to start a family. “What do you know about that?”, he inquires.

“I know everything about it. I know how long you've been trying and failing - six months.” Holds up six fingers in Alasdair's face. “And. I. Can. See. The. Future,” emphasizes every word he spits out.  

Alasdair stands frozen, processing what he perceives to be all ludicrous.

The Dark One takes a step closer, slowly leaning in face to face. “It's not the future you and your little wife desires,” he mummers.

Alasdair glares into his reptilian eyes, growing curious of what he might know. He did mention that they've been trying to have a baby for six months and that was the absolute truth.

“What happens to us in this future you see?” he questions The Dark One again.

The Dark One slightly tilts his head to the lift. “You never get that child you desperately seek.”

“Why not?”

“Your precious Isabella can never bear children.”

“That's not true!”, Alasdair roars, stepping back from The Dark One. How can he speak these lies about Isabella? “Belle is only thirty-two years old. She can have children. It's my fault we can't have them. It's me!”

“It's not you, it's her!”, The Dark One snaps back. “And that will never change unless you do something about it!”

Alasdair gazes at him, tears burning in his eyes. Is there a possibility this can all be true?

He suddenly feels a sharp pain on his hands and he looks down upon them, never noticing the cuts on the back of them before. Alasdair inflicted these injuries from the shards of glass flying across the room when he pummeled the counter. Numb to the pain until now.

Since he didn't feel these fresh cuts before, maybe this is the sign that everything is real and maybe that there is a possibility of hope.

“If what you say is true.” Alasdair turns away from the lizard man, resting his hands flat on one of the undamaged counters. “What can I do about it?”, his voice wobbles with sorrow, lowering his head. “I can't do anything.”

“You can do something.” The Dark One disappears in his purple mist and appears on the other side of the counter in front of Alasdair. He places his glittery hands over Alasdair's and heals his wounds. “You can let me help you,” he whispers.

Alasdair gasps at the magic that healed him and instantly moves his hands away. He has seen and read of incredible, mysterious, things in the world, but nothing like this. Nothing this powerful.

“Why would you help us?” Alasdair mutters, opening and closing his healed hands. All the pain he briefly felt has vanished.

“Because by helping you, I get to help myself.” He leers at Alasdair with a fiendish smirk.

Alasdair recognizes that look all too well. He's seen it before on his very own face. “You want something from us.”

“Yes, I do,” answers in one of his silly childish voices, but everything he speaks is of a serious matter. The Dark One lowers his brow at Alasdair and speaks in a deeper tone, “There's magic, you see, it can fix your problem, but magic isn't free.” Pauses for a moment. “All magic comes with a price.” He struts around the counter, standing next to Alasdair with his hands behind his back.

Alasdair stares daggers at him, never taking his eyes away.

“The price for this deal,” The Dark One continues to state. “Is a small price to pay, but you'll never miss what you owe, because it was never yours to begin with.”

“What’s the price?”

“I can not tell you that.” Tilts his head. “Yet,” says with a toothy grin. “You do not currently possess the price.”

“But you know what it is?”

“Well of course I do, dearie,” he chortles with his reply, flailing his hand with excitement.

“Then tell me what it is!”, Alasdair commands, feeling mocked by The Dark One’s enthusiasm.

“I can't!”, he shouts back.

“Then I can't make this deal with you.” Alasdair turns away and limps to his cane resting in the pile of broken glass and antiques. He picks it up and finds The Dark One in his face once again. Alasdair jerks from the sight, he'll never get used to it.

“I know you, Alasdair,” he says calmly, talking Alasdair into doing what he knows he gravely wants to do. “You would do anything for Isabella, give her anything. You would burn down a city if she ever asked you too. You would lay down your life just to make sure she's happy for the rest of hers. But I'm not asking for your life or hers,” he guarantees their safety in this potential deal.  “You have the chance to change both of your lives and give her the one thing in the world you thought she could never have.”

Alasdair feels the weight of this life changing decision rest upon his shoulders and he collapses to his knees, landing just out of the way of the broken glass.

He wants this more than anything, the chance for Isabella to experience something she's always dreamt of, but life has denied her. He now has the chance to insure her happiness. How could he ever not consider doing it?

“Why me?”, Alasdair bellows in agony. “Why did you have to come to me?”

The Dark One kneels down to his level. “I know how to recognize a desperate soul and I do want to help you.”

Alasdair needs to be absolutely sure that death will not come for his wife. He doesn't much care for his own. “You don't want her life?”

“No. I do not want Isabella’s life or yours.” The Dark One states clearly and truthfully.

“Belle will be able to have children?”

“Yes,” The Dark One answers sharply, with a gleam of victory in his eyes. He can sense Alasdair is going to take the deal. “As many as she wants.”

Alasdair glances down at the floor, feeling sick to his stomach not knowing the price he must pay. But The Dark One is right about him, he will do anything to make sure Isabella is happy.

Alasdair slowly stands to his feet and peers down at The Dark One, nodding his head.

“What does that mean?” The Dark One hisses, quickly rising from the floor, nearly drooling at the mouth. “Do we have a deal? I need you hear you say it!”

He wipes the tears from his eyes and looks The Dark One square in his. “Yes.”

“Hehehehe.” The gleeful lizard man claps his hands and with a sudden flick of his wrist a long contract magically rolls out from his right hand and a purple quill appears in the other. “Sign!”

Alasdair’s hands tremble as he reaches for the quill, about to seal the deal that will make their dream of a family a reality. But at what price?

He scans over the contact as he thinks about the price of his actions. What will he soon possess, that will not be his own, and will have to hand over to The Dark One as payment?

Alasdair, doesn't have a clue.

But right now, this unknown object isn't of any importance to Alasdair. His main concern is only Isabella.

He loves his wife and has a chance to truly change her life. He isn't going to let this opportunity pass and live the rest of his life asking; What if?

Alasdair Gold signs the contract.

“You've made a wise decision.” The Dark One makes the contract disappear.

“Did I?” Alasdair questions. He doesn't feel as though he's done anything wrong, but was it truly right?

“You did. The contract you signed insures that you and Isabella will have a family. There's nothing wrong with wanting a family of your own.”

Alasdair grips the handle of his cane and thinks about his decision as he limp to the door of the shop to lock it, but it's been locked the entire time.

“I didn't want anyone walking it on us,” The Dark One confesses to locking the door upon his entry.

Alasdair takes a deep breath and sighs out, “So what now?”

“Now I do my part,” he giggles with a little joyful hop.

“What's that?”

“I give you these.” The Dark One stretches out his arm and opens his palm, revealing two small vials filled with red and gold fluids.

Alasdair steps closer to get a better peek at the items in his hands. “Those are the magic?”

“Yes, dearie.” He grabs the hand Alasdair doesn't grip with the cane and drops the vials into it, then explains what he has to do to end their childless nightmare.  “You are to each take a potion. It will not alter your state of mind in anyway.” He stresses this point. He doesn't want Alasdair to think that their being drugged. The couple coming to no harm is a part of their deal. “The red one is for Isabella and the gold one is for you!” He points at him. “Make love to your wife after taking the potions, then everything is complete. You will never have the worry of a childless future again.”

“That's it?”

“Yes!” The Dark One hisses.

Alasdair gazes at the vials in his hands. It's unbelievable that he's holding the keys to their happy ending.

“How do I get her to take it?” Alasdair asks. “I don't want her to know about any of this. I think it would be best if she didn't know.”

“Well that is something you're doing to have to figure out yourself, dearie,” he answers. “I've done my part, now you do yours.”

Alasdair nods and slips the vials into the pocket of his suit jacket. “Will we have to take the potions again if we want another child?”

“No,” The Dark One boldly states. “The beauty of this magic is that it's a one time deal. You will never have to take the potions again. Isabella will be forever cured from what’s keeping her from conceiving.”

He's relieved to hear that this is only once. Alasdair didn't want to have to come back for more if Isabella wanted to have another child.

“Why can't Belle conceive?”, Alasdair asks. He was afraid of this question before, but now that there's a way to fix it, he needs to know.

“Some women are just infertile. That's just the way nature works,” The Dark One answers truthfully.

Isabella has had irregular periods her entire life, but never linked it as a sign of infertility.

“But none of that really matters anymore because it will no longer be the case,” the lizard man adds.

Now that the deal has been struck and the magical items exchanged, The Dark One prepares for his exit. All that's left is for him to sit back and wait for the payment he's soon to be owed.  

“That's everything you need to know, for now, dearie,” The Dark One announces in the same flamboyant manner he's displayed the entire time. “I'll be back to see you soon to have our little chat about the payment.”  

Alasdair nods, already having a feeling of dread in the back of his mind over what that payment will be. But he can't worry about it at the moment. He has some time to prepare himself and when The Dark One returns, he will be ready.

“But in the meantime, drink your potion!” The sparky leather clad imp, dramatically points his forefinger in the air. “Fuck your wife,” arches a brow. “And… Don't forget to have fun. Bye.” Instantly disappears in a haze just as quickly as he appeared.

Alasdair stands alone in his devastated shop once again, breathing heavily with his hand over his chest, feeling the vials in his pocket.

“It was real,” he mutters to himself. “It was fucking real.”

##  **\-----**

Isabella Gold waits anxiously at home. It's been two hours since she arrived from the library, finding that her husband has not yet made it home from work. They usually arrive around the same time everyday.

Isabella is worried for her husband. After the argument they had earlier today, she's starting to think he may have done something to take out his frustrations.

She paces the living room, fighting off the urge to call the sheriff's station. It's the last thing she wants to do, but if Alasdair doesn't show up soon, she will.

The front door suddenly cracks open.

“Alasdair?”, she calls out and dashes to the door.

“Yes, sweetheart, it's me.” Alasdair steps inside and he's greeted with a warm hug from Isabella. “I'm sorry, Belle.” He nuzzles into her neck. “I know you were worried about me. I'm so sorry.”

Alasdair needed time to think about the deal he made. He drove out to the town line and parked by the Storybrooke welcome sign, contemplating his choice.

Is this little secret about the magical potion worth Isabelle's happiness and a chance at bearing her own child?

Alasdair Gold came to the conclusion that it was an absolute yes.

He's going to go on with giving her the potion, taking his own and handing over whatever the payment is he owes to The Dark One. Isabella's love and chance at motherhood is worth that much.

“That doesn't matter, honey." Isabella hugs him tighter. “You're here now.”

“I should tell you where I was.”

“Alright, tell me.” She pulls out of his arms and gazes into his deep chocolate eyes.

“I was at the town line. I needed to think over some things before coming home to you.”  

“Oh…”, she sighs in relief. “That's okay. I understand you needing time to think. I just wish you would have called.”

“I'm sorry. I won't do that again.” He kisses her cheek.

“I should apologize to you too.”

“You don't have anything to apologize for, sweetheart.”

“Yes. I do.” She cups his cheek and he meld into her touch. “I shouldn't have yelled at you and walked out on you earlier. You were just as hurt as I was, yet I still left you alone, when we both needed each other. I'm sorry.”

“It's okay… It's okay, Belle…” He hugs her again, breathing in the scent of her French perfume. “Everything's going to be okay now. I promise.”

“I know it will,” she mummers on the side of his neck and kisses him. “I need you to know.” Pulls out of his loving embrace. “I made an appointment to see a doctor tomorrow to find out what’s wrong.”

Alasdair nods. “Would you like me to go with you?”, he asks.

Though he knows she will not be stepping out of that office with any bad news, he still wants to support her and go.

“Ummm… I don't really know what to expect,” she says honestly. “So I want to go on my own.”

“Alright, sweetheart,” he nods again in agreement. “Whatever you want to do.”

“Thank you for understanding.”

“You're welcome, my love.” Softly presses his lips against her brow.

“Come on,” she closes the heavy wood door behind him. “Let's get you inside.” She goes to take his hand, but he's holding something she didn't notice when she rushes to the door. “Oh… What's this?”

He smiles, showing her the bottle. “It's your favorite red wine. I bought it for you.”

“Aww… Thank you Alasdair.” She adores the little gestures he does to make her feel better.

“I thought maybe, instead of being miserable about not being pregnant, we could spend the night together.” He offers her his arm and she graciously accepts it. “I thought we could drink a bit of wine, read to each other and maybe eat from that pint of cherry-black-forest ice cream in the freezer.”

She giggles, resting her head on his shoulder. “Don't you know how long that's been in the freezer?”

“I don't care, Belle, let's get rid of it.”

“The whole thing?” Her eyes smile up at him.

“I don't know about you, but I'm gonna try.”

“I love it when you get this way.” She stands in front of him, pressing her whole body against him, rasping her fingers through his silvery locks. “Every time those test came up negative, you always thought of something to help me feel better about it.”

“I hate it when you're upset, Belle. I love you and I want you to be happy.”

“I want you to be happy too.”

“I am, my love. I’m with you right now and I'm happy.”

She grabs his face with both hand and pulls him into her, kissing him firmly, catching his bottom lip sweetly between her own.

“Mmm…”, he hums, slowly breaking off the kiss. “You're still in the clothes you worked in all day,” he speaks upon her lips.

“Yes, I was worried about you. I thought I had to go out to find you.”

“I feel terrible about that.”

“It's okay, Alasdair.”

“Why don't you go upstairs, make a nice warm bubble bath, and I'll meet you with the wine and ice cream.”

“You're serious about that ice cream,” she snickers, flashing a coquettish grin.

“I am.” He rest his brow upon hers, gently grazes their noses over each other’s. “You get ready for that bath and I'll see you minute,” says softly.

“Okay.” She nips at his lips, then makes her way up the stairs.

Alasdair watches his wife disappears to the second floor of the manor and once he can no longer see her, he turns his direction to the kitchen.

He removes the pint of ice cream from the freezer and takes down two wine glasses from the the cabinet. He then removes the two vials The Dark One gave him and glares over them.

They appear to be innocent little bottles of liquid, but inside holds a powerful magic that will reshape their future.

Alasdair opens the vial with the golden potion and smells the contents. The elixir is odorless.

He takes a deep breath and quickly shoots down the potion. Beginning the first step to what he perceives to be their happy ending.

He waits for a moment, making sure there are no physical changes to himself and there aren't. He feels like the same man that walked into the front door.

Alasdair opens the vial to the red potion and pours the content into one of the wine glasses. Then tops it off with just enough wine to fill the glass only a fourth of the way.

He returns the vials back to the pocket of his suit jacket and gathers all the other items on a silver tray. He balances everything, while walking with his cane, up to the bathroom to Isabella.

##  **\-----**

Isabella sits in a large porcelain tub of soothing lavender bubbles, thinking about her day and the appointment she made to see a doctor. She’s concerned about the unknown. But she's hopeful that whatever the reason they can not have children together, will be an obstacle she and her husband can work through.

Alasdair limps into the bathroom, holding the tray of red wine and ice cream.

“There you are,” Isabella greets him, sitting up in the tub. “I was starting to think I would have to go get you.”

“You should have known I'd come back to you.” He sits the tray on the sink.

“You always do.”

He picks up the glass of wine and faces Isabella. She's so beautiful surrounded by the bubbles with a slight lavender tint to them. It's the most gorgeous sight he's seen all day.

“Are you going to hand me that glass or just stand there staring. Because I'm okay with either.”

“I-I-I am gonna hand you the glass,” he stutters, a little uneasy about what he's doing. But he's already made his choice and there's no turning back now.

“You're little ball of nerves,” she comments, knowing there’s a lot on his mind as well as her own. “Are you concerned about what the doctor might say?”

“Yes, a little.” He steps to the tub.

“You don't have to be, honey. Everything's going to be alright,” she assures her husband. “We’ll work out whatever’s ahead of us.”

“I know.” He kneels down on his knees, careful not to spill the wine in the glass. “I'm happy you were able you calm down after what happened at the shop. It broke my heart seeing you that way. I promise you will never have to feel that way again.”

“That's a pretty huge promise, Alasdair.”

“I'm going to do my best to keep it.” He hands over the glass. “Here, sweetheart.”

“Thank you.” She wraps her wet hand around the bowl of the glass.

Alasdair hesitates letting go of the stem for a moment and fights off the instinct telling him to stop. He knows that doing this is the right thing for their family. “I'm sorry, Belle.” He releases his hold on the glass.

“You don't have to keep apologizing. I thought we weren't going to spend tonight in our misery.”

“We're not.”

“Then make yourself a glass of wine.”

“Alright.” He waits and watches her take her first sip, taking in a deep breath when she swallows. “Are you okay?”, he asks the instant her face suddenly turns sour.

“Yes, I’m okay. You just didn't let the wine breathe. It tastes bitter.”

“That slipped my mind. My apologies.”

“It's okay.” She drinks a bit more.

He continues to watch her and nothing appears to have physically or mentally changed in her, or himself, and he's greatly relieved. The Dark One has kept his word.

Alasdair crawls over to the sink and pour himself a drink.

“Come back over here. I want you close to me,” Isabella says, taking another sip of wine.

“Of course.” He stands on his knees and shimmies himself back to the side of the tub.

“You're so adorable,” she says, chuckling at his silly antics.

“And you're so beautiful.”

She drinks the last bit of her wine and hands him the empty glass to rest in the floor. She then leans over the side of the tub and caresses his shoulder with her wet hand. “You should take your jacket off. I actually don't know why you're still fully clothed.”

“I wasn't sure what mood you'd be in tonight. I thought maybe you just wanted to take a bath.”

“You're adorable and sweet.” She bits her bottom lip, slowly moving the jacket off of his shoulder. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Isabella.”

“Come here, honey.”

He removes his jacket and leans in closer to her, kissing her moist silky lips.

She takes his hand and guides it under the bubbles, planting it on her slick pillowy breast.

“Belle, are you sure?”, he breathes on her lips, checking to make sure the potion hasn't changed her. He doesn't want to make love to her if she's under some mind altering spell. He doesn't feel any different himself, but they didn't take the same potions.

“Why are you asking me that?” She gazes into his eyes, tilting her head slightly to the right.

“I couldn't get that image of you telling me not to touch you out of my head all day. I just needed to make sure that this is you doing this.”

“Who else would it be?”, she questions him again. He's asking such strange inquiries tonight.

He closes his eyes tightly, turning his head away. “That came out wrong.” Glances back at her. “I meant to say I needed to make sure that this was what you wanted.”

“I shouldn't have told you that I didn't want you touching me. I didn't mean it.”

“It's okay if you don't want me to touch you.”

“I know, but that's not what I really wanted then and that's not what I want now.”

“Oh, Isabella,” he says breathy.

“I love when you say my name like that.” She pulls him back into her, kissing him zealously.

Water and bubbles crash to the floor as they consume each other lips.

Alasdair slips his right hand under the water and down between her legs.

She fall back against the wall of the tub as her breathing becomes hollow and quick. The sensation of his hand between her thighs, ever so slightly sends tingles through her body.

Alasdair massages the bulge growing in his pants as he fingers his wife, preparing them both to consummate the deal he's made.

“Mmm… Mmm,” she faintly moans, licking her lips. “Join me in the tub,” she breathes.

“What about the ice cream?”

“It can wait.”

He uses his feet to slips off his shoes and removes his hand from the water.

Isabelle slides her hand down between her legs, keeping herself on edge until he enters the tub.

He tugs the windsor knot out of his pink palsy tie and quickly pulls his shirt over his head, almost getting stuck in his hurry. He then unbuckles his belts, unbuttons and unzips his pants. He pulls them down, - with his white cotton briefs, - to his knees and his thickening cock falls out from it's constriction. Alasdaire also removes his black socks.

Isabella pulls her husband back into her and he returns his hand between her thighs.

“Ah… Ah…”, she moan a little louder, reaching over the side of the tub and taking hold of his semi flaccid manhood. Working him into a full erection. “Join me in the tub, honey,” she offers again.

“Yes, my love.” He rises to his feet and carefully takes off his pants. Then joins his wife in the tub, being cautious not the slip.

Isabella opens her legs, inviting him between them.

He crawls up to her, positioning himself on top of her, his erect cock brushing against her folds. Alasdair kisses her passionately, slipping the tip of his tongue into her moist mouth, tasting the wine on her breath.

Water splashes and spills over the tub with every move they make.

Isabella glides her right hand down between them wrapping it around his manhood again.

“Ungh…” he grunts, balls constricting to her touch.

She slips him between her fluttering petals, teasing his tip over her clit before guiding him into her warm slippery opening.

He thrusts his cock inside his wife.

“Ah… Alasdair… ”, Isabella Gold blissfully moans, digging her painted nails into his back.

##  **\-----**

_[The next day]_

Alasdair sweeps up the glass in his shop from yesterday’s rampage, having a better outlook on his and Isabella lives. He knows Isabella will be coming back from the doctor with a clean bill of health and they can restart their plans on having a baby.

As he tosses the last bit of debris into the trash in the back room of the shop, the little bell at the entry rings.

Alasdair steps out finding his wife staring at the broken counter.

“What happened here?” She gawks at him.

“Some vandals got in last night,” he lies. He knows if he tells her the truth she’ll only blame herself again for walking out on him yesterday. And he doesn't what that. Today is this day she's finds out she can have children and he wants it to be a joyous one.  

“Vandals?”

“Yeah, a bunch of kids I think. It's nothing to worry about, sweetheart. We’re insured.”

“Well, I know that.”

“How did the doctor appointment go?”

She turns to him, smiling ear to ear. She been waiting for him to ask.

Alasdair beams back at her, leaning on his cane. He knows what’s coming and he wants to take in every word of; _We can have children_.

Isabella steps to him, drapes her arms around his neck and gazes longingly into his eyes. “I'm pregnant.”

The gleeful expression on his face is suddenly wiped clean. She can't be pregnant. It's only been a day since they took the potion.

“How?”, he asks mystified.

“Don't be silly, Alasdair,” says with a bubbly giggle. “You were there when it happened.”

“I mean… You took a test yesterday and it came up negative.”

“Well it was like you said, it could have been inaccurate, and it absolutely was. I was shocked myself when the doctor told me. He didn't know why we were having problem with the test, but it was wrong.” She gazes inquisitively at the shock still plastered on his face. “Aren't you happy, honey? We waited so long and had so many sleepless night over this. And now you look upset.”

“No, no, no…” He hugs her dearly. “I'm not upset. I'm happy. I'm happy and surprised that all.”

“I'm so happy too. We do get to have our little family.”

Alasdair hold her close, hiding his look of concern behind her back. His wife should not be pregnant after only one night.


	2. The Price You Owe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alasdair Gold is devastated when he learns the price of his deal with The Dark One.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a little longer to write, but I was binge watching Z Nation and writing this at the same time. I have no regrets. I am happy to have it finished before my b-day on the 2nd, so I’ve reached that goal! YAY!.... Happy cheering aside, here’s a warning that this chapter is full of angst. These poor babies are in a pickle :( I probably shouldn't say “happy reading” and I wont. But I do hope all who reads enjoys and looks forwards to what happens next.

_[One week later]_

Isabella Gold rushes up the stairs of the pink Victorian she shares with her husband. And stumbles into their bathroom. Her stomach is queasy from the scent of her favorite Granny’s Diner take out.  

“Belle?” Alasdair Gold calls out to his wife, standing at the foot of the stairs.

He promptly chased after her as swiftly as his broken ankle could carry him. But she made it to the top of the stairs before he could leave the dining room.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?”, he cries out to her again.

“Yeah…”, she coughs.

“It doesn't sound like you are.”

“I'm fine, babe, don't worry about it.”

They’ve learned of Isabella’s pregnancy the day after Alasdair made a deal The Dark One’s and took his magical potions.  

“You shouldn't be sick, Belle,” he announces up the stairs.

Alasdair was under the impression the potion would only fix what kept Isabella from conceiving. Not pregnant the day after one night’s roll in the sack, or tub.

“What?”, she coughs again, turning on the water in the sink.

“I said, you shouldn't be sick,” he yells over her constant hacking.

“I… can't … hear you,” she forces out her words, fighting back the sensation of nausea in her gut. “I'll be down… in a minute.”

“I'm coming up.” He begins his ascent up the stairs.

As Isabella flushes the toilet and freshens her mouth with spearmint rinse, Alasdair enters the bathroom.

She gargles and spits into the sink, then pushes the hair back from her face, glaring at herself in the mirror. “I said I was fine, honey,” her voice is scratchy. She pulls down a white cotton hand towel from the rack, moistens the corner with warm water and wipes the tears from her face.

“And I said that you shouldn't be sick.” He steps to her and gently takes the towel from her hand, helping to clean her cheeks and lips.

“What do you mean by that?” She turns to him, squinting, tilting her head to the right. “I am pregnant, you know. Being sick is part of the territory.”

“I know that, Belle, but you've only been pregnant for a week. You shouldn't be having morning sickness.”

Alasdair is worried that the potion from The Dark One may have came with unexplained side effects.

“A week?….” Isabella playfully snatches the towl from his hand. “Alasdair, don't be silly.” She smiles, dropping the towel in the sink. “Yes, we found out about the pregnancy a week ago, but I'm obviously further along than that.”

“You can't be…. You shouldn't be,” he insists.

If she was pregnant before they took the potions, then the deal he made was all for nothing.

“I think I know my own body. And yes, we found out a week ago,” she repeats. “But we've been trying so hard to get pregnant and we've been doing that a lot longer than a week. Who knows which one of those times your little swimmers finally made it to their destination.”

“Well, it had to be at least six weeks ago.”

Morning sickness, _normally_ ,  starts six weeks into a pregnancy.

“Of course it was,” she agrees with a subtle nod. “We were all over each other six weeks ago. We made love almost every night.   

Alasdair cuts his eyes away for a moment, thinking of their activities from the last six weeks. They've made love relentlessly in the past six months that he has easily lost track of each time.

“I think we did,” he replies eventually, still unsure.

“We did,” she giggles softly, beaming at her husband with a coy grin. “It was almost every day.”

He blinks, piecing together memories in his mind. Isabella wouldn't tell him this if she wasn't absolutely sure. But after the deal he struck with The Dark One, he hasn't quite felt like himself.

“But what about all those tests you took between then and now?”, he asks with a hint of distress in his voice.

Every single pregnancy test they ever took revealed a negative answer. It's unbelievable for her to have conceived six weeks before and every test be wrong.

“Babe…” She grabs his cheeks with both hands and looks him square in the eye.

Alasdair instantly melds into her touch.

“I know those tests coming up negative is weird, but I don't think it's anything for us to worry about anymore. We're pregnant now.” She kisses the tip of his nose.

Isabella has thought about those tests many times, but she pushed the odd incident to the side. It isn't of any importance now that her pregnancy was confirmed by a doctor. She doesn't want to think back on those stressful times. Now there's light in their future.

“But I do have to say this,” she quickly adds.

“What?....” His eyes grow wide with a fear of the unknown. “Say what?”

“You've been acting a little strange lately.”

“I have?”, he asks, astonished. Thinking that the past week he has perfectly masked his uncertainty towards making the deal. He doesn't want her to know anything about what he's done. But Isabella knows him well enough to see when something is eating away at him.

“Yes, you've been in your head a lot, deep in thought, but I wasn't bothered by it,” she assures him.

Isabella understands that sometimes he doesn't want to talk about something's. (Everyone gets this way now and then.) But eventually he does confide in her.

“I know you're just worried about us.” She takes his hand and rests it on her flat pregnant tummy. “All of us.”

“I h-h-have been worried a lot about you,” he confesses with an anxious stutter.

“You don't have to be. I know it took us forever to get here and I understand you're scared. But I'm fine and our child is fine. You have nothing to be paranoid about right now.”  

He nods, slowly rubbing his hand over her belly, feeling his agitation melt away.

Other than the terms of the deal lingering in the back of his mind, she is absolutely right. There isn't anything to worry about. At least, not in this moment.

Alastair starts to think since she might be six weeks along in the pregnancy, his deal with The Dark One should be null. But he isn't going to rest easily because of this sudden thought. He still has a feeling that there's a lot more to everything.

“I'm happy you think I'm right.” She slides her right hand through his silky, silver locks.

“I do, Isabella,” he says honestly, offering her to take his arm.

She graciously accepts his gesture of chivalry, hooking her arm with his.

“We can go back downstairs.” He leads her out of the bathroom. “Do you think you can eat?”

“No, I don't think so, but I'll try again later.” She rest her head on his shoulder. “Right now I need to lay down.”

“Alright, sweetheart.” Alasdair escorts his wife to their bedroom.

##  **\-----**

After helping Isabella lay down to rest, Alasdair Gold returns to the dining room to put away their meal. He packs the Styrofoam packages back into the paper sack and takes them to the refrigerator.

When he opens the door into the kitchen, Alasdair is startled by the image of The Dark One sitting on top of the center granite cabinet. “Ahh!”, he yelps, dropping the bag to the floor. He’ll never get used to seeing his features on the face of a magical being.

Alasdair takes several deep breathes to collect himself. And he gawks at the leather wrapped, sparkly, creature before him. “Get out of our house,” he orders immediately.

“Well that isn’t the welcome I was expecting.” The Dark One crosses his right leg over the left, folding his hands in his lap. He then takes a short instant and observes the kitchen of the Gold’s manor.

The lizard man gazes at the stainless steal appliances with a mixed expression of intrigue and revulsion plastered on his face. This isn’t the style he expected to see in the kitchen of a man who’s the curator of an antique shop. Maybe Isabella had full control over the decor of the kitchen?…. Who’s to really say…. It’s all a bit too modern for The Dark One’s ancient taste. But he still likes it, sort of.

“I said get out!”, Alasdair demands. He isn’t comfortable with having him in the house and this close to Isabella.

“We have business to discuss,” The Dark One says smoothly in his unique accent. Which sounds like a mix of several different regions

“I know. We have a lot to talk about,” Alasdair replies. He isn't going to hold back the information of Isabella conceiving the baby before he ever met the shimmering skinned beast. He's going to reveal everything and be out of this deal once and for all. “I don't want any of this business happening in our house. Not with my wife resting upstairs.” Alasdair goes on to add, gathering the paper bag up from the floor and gimps with it to the refrigerator.

The lizard man’s eyes glisten with awe at the sudden mentioning of Isabella. “Your wife is here?”, he says excited, hopping down from the counter. “I want to see her,” he drools, making his way to the door.

“No!” Alasdair shuffles across the kitchen as quickly as he can, putting himself between The Dark One and the door. “You're not seeing her. You're not getting anywhere close to her.”

The Dark One frowns, wiping the foam from his lips. “But why not?”, he pouts.

“Because she has nothing to do with this. So leave her out of it.”

“But she is apart of it,” The Dark One hisses through his uneven stained teeth. “She's apart of everything.”

“All the business is between you and me.” He steps closer to the scaly green eyed imp, tightening the grip on his cane. Alasdair will do his best to physically stop him from getting to Isabella. “If she ever needs to know something, I’ll be the one to tell her. She will not see you. She will never see you!”

“Fine,” The Dark One gruffs, taking a step back. “There's no need for idle threats.” He hops back on top of the kitchen counter. “So….” Crosses his arms. “Since you don't want to do it here, where can we conduct our business?”

“My shop.”

“Excellent.” The Dark One claps his hands enthusiastically, ecstatic to be another step closer to the payment.  “I'll takes us there.” He lifts his right hand to snap his claw like fingers and magic them to Mr. Gold’s: Pawnbroker and Antiques.

“No!” Alasdair swiftly stops him from poofing them away. “I'll drive myself there,” he strongly insist. “I'm not leaving Belle without telling her where I'm going.”

“You're being rather demanding today.” Jumps down from the counter, slithering around Alasdair like a snake and scans his reptilian eyes over the whole of body. “Hehehe…,” he suddenly giggles in his childlike manner. “I like it.” Snaps his teeth like a crocodile.

Alasdair watches The Dark One’s pacing, never taking his eyes from the creature. Unable to shake the feeling that something isn't right.

The Dark One stops before Alasdair and leans in face to face. “You have half an hour,” he snarls and disappears in a haze of purple smoke.

Alasdair immediately exits the kitchen and staggers up the stairs to his wife.

He stands in the doorway of their bedroom, heart pounding in his chest, watching the love of his life resting peacefully in their queen sized bed.

For an instant, as he hobbled up the stairs, he felt a deep panic seeping in the pit of his stomach that he would find The Dark One hovering over Isabella. He's never had such a feeling of relief to find that his senses were wrong.

Alasdair limps into the room and sits on the bed next to his angelic wife. He then tilts into her and presses his lips to her brow, breathing in her scent as if it's the last time he’ll ever smell her. The aroma of lavender is highly intoxicating.

“Belle?”, he murmurs on her fair flesh.

“Mmm…”, she hums, slowing waking up from her nap.

“Sweetheart?”

“Yes, honey.” She turns her head to him, licking her dry lips.

“Are you feeling any better, my love?”

“A little, but not much.”

“Okay, well, I’m going to go down to the pharmacy,” he lies about the true nature of his departure.

He can't possibly tell Isabella that he's going to finalize a deal he's made with a magical lizard man. She'd take the entire story as a joke. It's exactly how he would see such an odd tail if he didn't already know the truth.

But Alasdair does, however, plan to make a real stop at the pharmacy. He needs to get something to help Isabella with the nausea.

“Why are you going to the pharmacy?” She wipes the sleepiness from her eyes.

“I've looked up a few remedies for morning sickness and I thought you should try some. Especially the ones I found with tea. I know how much you love tea.”

A small smile stretches across Isabella’s face. Her husband is so loving and nurturing this early in the course of the pregnancy. She has an inkling that he's going to be an amazing father, he's already raised an incredible son.

“You're going to make me natural remedies?”, she questions, looking forward to trying the cure-all he has in mind.

“Yes, my love,” he nods, gently stroking his hand through her hair.

“That's so sweet of you.”

“We need to try something to help control the queasiness. I don't like the fact that you're up here suffering.”

“Thank you, Alasdair.”

“Don't thank me. I'm only doing what I'm supposed to do.” He takes a hold of her hand and presses it against his cheek. “I'll be back in a little while, okay?”

“Alright.”

“Okay,” he softly kisses her lips. “I have my phone, so call if you need anything. I shouldn't be long.”

“Alright… You should hurry up and go, so you can get back,” she teases.

“I will, I will.” He kisses her again and stands from the bed, slowly walking backwards to the doorway.

He watches Isabella make herself comfortable under their floral blankets. And when she's settled back in, all cozy and snug, he turns away from the room.

Alasdair dashes down the stairs as quickly as he can with the support of his cane and heads out of the house. Locking the door behind himself.

He sits inside their black Cadillac and sets out on his journey to the pharmacy and the meeting with The Dark One.

##  **\-----**

Alasdair speedily searches the ales of the pharmacy, picking up boxes of raspberry leaf and anise teas. Snatching up candied and fresh ginger root. Tossing several bottles of peppermint oil into his basket. He doesn't know which remedy will work best, the tea, ginger or peppermint tummy rub. But he's getting several choices so she can choose what she wants to try.

After thundering through the pharmacy, Alasdair arrives at his shop and stands outside the door.

He sees The Dark One through the window, standing behind the register and searching through the books on the shelf. Instead of tossing them to the floor, like he did on their last encounter, he places them back on the bookcase once he's finished flipping through the pages.  

Knots coil in Alasdair’s stomach as he holds onto the handle of the door. He spent the past week trying to prepare himself for this moment, but to actually be here is more disconcerting than he ever imaged. Something else is about to change in his life, he can sense it, and it doesn't feel pleasant.

Though he never thought the deal he made was wrong, Alasdair was never sure if his choice was right. He was only doing all that he could to make sure their future was the one they both wanted. It certainly didn't feel right at times, but he’d do anything to insure Isabella’s happiness.

Since Alasdair thinks Isabella was pregnant when the deal was struck, he's hoping to end this business between them and forget all about the existence of a Dark One.

Alasdair takes one last deep breath and unlocks the door to his shop. The little bell rings as he steps inside.

“Welcome to my shop, dearie!” The Dark One greets him with a giggle, presenting the bookshelf with a graceful flourish of his hands.

“Nothing here is yours,” Alasdair snarls, limping to the front desk.

“Can't a man pretend?”, the lizard man huffs. Alasdair knows how to drain the fun from everything.

“When it comes to you and my stuff, no.”

“Well, you're not one for sharing.”

“No, I'm not.”

“That might be an issue, dearie.”

“I don't know what you mean by that.” Alasdair rest his cane on the glass display counter. “But I don't think it will be.”

“And why do you think that?” The Dark One steps to the counter, standing across from Alasdair.

“Because our deal is off. It was never actually valid.”

“And why do you think that?”, the lizard man repeats, smug, crossing his arms.

“Because Belle is six weeks pregnant. Our deal means nothing since she was already with child.”

The large green eyes of The Dark One widens as he stands aghast by the news. “She's with child?”, he cheers.

“You knew that!” Alasdair barks, slamming his open palm on the glass. How can this creature act so surprised?

“Hehe… I did,” he snickers softly, eyes shimmering with amusement.

“You knew before we ever made this deal. What was the point of all this?”

“Yes,” he hisses, leaning over the counter. “I knew your wife was pregnant.” Tilts his head slightly to the right, staring directing into Alasdair’s deep brown eyes. “But she wasn't pregnant before we made the deal.”

“She had to be. No other way is logical.”

“You made a deal with The Dark One, dearie!”, he spits out, dramatically pointing his index finger in the air. “Anything is possible, especially what you owe me.”

“I don't owe you anything,” Alasdair bellows in rage. “My wife was already pregnant!”

“She! Was! Not!”, the scaly imp roars. “Isabella was infertile before she took that red potion.”

Alasdair glares at The Dark One, breathing heavily, feeling as though the walls are closing in around him. None of this is logical. This entire situation is absolute ludicrous.

“It still doesn't make any sense,” Alasdair mumbles, brushing his right hand through his hair. “If the potion made it so that she can bear children, then how can she be pregnant the next day? The human body doesn't work like that.”

“It makes perfect sense….” The Dark One taps his long painted nails on the glass three times in a nonchalant manner. He cuts his eyes away from Alasdair, grinning fiendishly. And the most terrifying words for any expecting father to hear, spills out from his moist green lips. “….If the child isn't yours.”

Alasdair's body begins to tremble, fuming over the detestable words he had the misfortune of hearing. “What are you saying?”, he says hoarse, eyes glazed over crimson with fury.  “Isabella would never do something like that. She loves me!”, his voice booms across the entire shop.

The Dark One snickers to himself, folding his hands on top of the counter. “You are right, dearie.” He points at him, flashing a sly smirk. “Isabella would never do something like that. She would never sleep with another man behind your back,” he says, matter of fact. “This is why other steps had to be taken.”

“What are you talking about?”, Alasdair snarls through his uneven teeth, clenching his hands into tight fists.

“One!” He holds a single finger in Alasdair's face.

“What does that mean?”, Alasdair yelps, sick of all the lizard man’s cryptic messages. Why can't he answer anything straight forwardly?

“You used two potions,” he finally answers. “A red and a gold, but you only needed one to get the family you so desired.” He lowers his hand, smiling proudly at his cleverness. “And. That. Single. Potion….” Slowly leans over the counter. “Was Isabella’s,” he whispers with a wink.  

“What did you do to her?” Alasdair slams his open palm on the counter again.

“I only did what she wanted, what you wanted,” The Dark One howls. “She was infertile and that is the absolute truth.”  

“But what about now? I know you did something to her!”

“I only fixed her,” he answers truthfully. “Since taking the potion, your wife can now bear children, something she could never do before. It's just what she always wanted. It's just what you always wanted. And she will remain fertile for the rest of her natural cycle.”

“But what else?!” Alasdair knows that there's a whole lot more.

“But the child…. Is…. Not…. Yours.”

Alasdair's heart jumps up to his throat, as all the air in the room feels as though it's vacuumed out. He gasps for each breath, clutching his right hand over his chest, as everything in the shop spins around him. “That's…. Im-possible,” he forces out his words between heavy breaths, fighting off the sensation of fainting. Alasdair knows he's the only man to ever have unprotected sex with Isabella.

“It's very possible, dearie, and it's the truth.”

Alasdair tries to catch his breath and collect his thoughts to analyze this scenario. He hunches over the counter, rubbing the blurry images from his eyes, and air finally begins to fill his lunges. Now his mind can start to think more clearly.

“What did you do to me?” Alasdair lifts his head, hooding his eyes up at The Dark One. He comes to the conclusion that the gold potion he took is the catalyst to all this.

“Now you're asking the right question.”

“Answers me, damnit!” He thunders his closed fist down upon the counter, rattling the items in the display.

“Gladly,” he answers, delighted to finally have reached the point to reveal his twisted dark scheme. The childlike expressions of amusement fall from his face and the tone of his voice lowers. He gives Alasdair exactly what he desperately needs to hear. “The seeds of love that you planted inside your wife the night you took the potion, were not your own.” He swiftly grapples onto Alasdair wrists, pulling him in closer.

Alasdair tries to free himself from his clutches, but The Dark One possesses a godlike strength.

The lizard man’s eyes dilate as his claws slowly pierce into Alasdair's flesh. “In that moment." He continues his confession. titling his head slightly to the lift, speaking every word through his crooked stained teeth. “That single moment of your intense passion, the potion changed your…. umm…. recipe, so to speak.”

“I don't understand,” Alasdair’s says, thick with emotion.

“When you came inside your precious little wife, you were not giving her yourself…. You. Were. Giving. Her. Me!” He let's go of his wrists, with a villainous giggle.

Alasdair glares with horror in his eyes and it feels as though time has stopped. This is the most vile thing he's ever heard in his life and it's been done to him.

How demented does one have to be to magically swap someone else’s DNA with their own? Who the hell thinks of this stuff and why?

“You tricked me,” Alasdair mutters, tears of hatred filling in his eyes. “You used my desperation and the love for my wife against me…. You used my wife!”, he cries, suddenly picking up his cane from the counter. Alasdair swings it with all of his might to impale The Dark One repeatedly with its shaft. But the lizard man disappears in his smoke, reappearing unscathed out of Alasdair’s violant fury.

Alasdair turns around full circle with the force of his swing not making a connection and collapses to his knees. Sobbing into his hands. He's never felt so hopeless and violated in his life.

He thought he was prepared for anything The Dark One had planned, but not this. He could have never prepared himself enough for this.

Now he knows the price that he owes. As the words of The Dark One, from their first encounter, play in his mind like a broken record.

 

 

 

> _The price for this deal is a small price to pay. But you'll never miss what you owe, because it was never yours to begin with._

Alasdair understands exactly what it means.

The Dark One steps closer to Alasdair, kicking the cane out of his reach. “Love is the most powerful weapon in the world,” he says, standing over Alasdair's demoralizes state. “And if you wield it wisely, you can get anything you desire.”

Alasdair lifts his head from his hands, looking up to the leather clad beast with tears burning in his eyes. “You said we would have our own children,” he whimpers.

“And you will…. But only after this one. Like I said before, this is a one time deal. The next child, and the next child, and the next child, you plan on having will all be yours…. But this one’s mine! And I want it! It's the price of our deal!…. You!” He points down at him like an insignificant cockroach. “Will hand it over to me!”

“Why? Why did you do this to us?” Alasdair sits up on his knees, begging for answers. “Why do you want my wife's child?”

“Thanks to you, it's my child too. I have my reasons for wanting this baby. You will be handing it over to me.”

Alasdair quickly stands, ignoring all the pain shooting down his right leg. Needing to lock on, eye to eye, with this magical scaly lizard. “What if I say no.” His clear strong brogue rings through the shop.

There has to be a way of fighting this, he can't just sit back and take it. This baby is his wife’s and she deserves to keep it.

The Dark One lowers his brow in anger. Alasdair has returned to making idle threats. His blood boils to the thought that he could do anything to stop this from happening. “Then I will have no other choice than to kill your wife,” he bites back with a threat of his own. “Killing you would be exactly what you'd want and a waste of my time.”

The Dark One’s words send volts down Alasdair's spine, but he holds his ground. He needs to protect his family. “You promised not to hurt us.”

“If you break the deal then I can do anything I wish.”

“But I can't take an incident child from its mother.”

“You can and you will!” The Dark One shouts. Nothing Alasdair can say will reshape their deal.

“Let's us keep it,” his lips tremble, making another plea from the depths of his heart. “I can love the child as my own, no matter how different it might be.”

Alasdair knows this child won't be normal, it's half Dark One.  Isabella instantly fell pregnant the moment he released The Dark One’s seed within her. Nothing about this baby or the Isabella’s pregnancy is expected to be the norm.

“I care about it already,” Alasdair continues to state.

“You only care about what your wife would think or do if she ever found out the truth.”

“That not true!”, he snaps. “I do care about the child.”

“Then you should care enough to do the right thing and bring it to me.”

“I truly have no other choice?” Alasdair is stuck between a wall and an extremely hard place.

“You do not,” The Dark One bellows.

“Fine….” Alasdair wipes the tears from his eyes.

The threat of killing Isabella gives him no other choice than to do what is expected of him. The Dark One can kill his wife with just a snap of his fingers and Alasdair believes that he will.

“As long as you promise that any other children we have will be mine, biologically mine.” He stresses this point. “And that Isabella and I get to keep and raise them.”

“Yes.” The lizard man rolls his eyes, annoyed by his repetitive comments about his next children. “How many times do you need to hear it? Yes!”

“It doesn't matter how many times I need to hear you say it. You've already tricked me once, but I won't allow you to do it again.”

“You're probably right about that, dearie.”

“I know I am.”

“Well at least you can be absolutely certain that the baby will look like you.” The Dark One points to his own smiling face. The face he copied from Alasdair.

Alasdair takes in a sharp breath, finally realizing why he stole his appearance. This magical entity may not possess an image of his own.  “That's why you took my face!”, he hollers, cheeks burning like red hot coal. “You don't have one of your own?”

“That's one reason, sort of…. Well, not really.” The Dark One shrugs. “I honestly just thought, yours was pretty.”

“You disgust me.”

“Good.” The Dark One snaps his fingers and Alasdair's cane appears in his left hand. “Since you made this little scene to get out of our deal, I no longer trust you.” He hands Alasdair his cane.

“You don't trust me?” He snatches away the cane.

It's unbelievable how such a lying trickster could have mistrust issues with anyone.

“I do not,” he boldly states, slamming his leather clad foot on the floor. “Isabella will have a pregnancy unlike any other and she will need help.”

“I can help my wife,” Alasdair insists.

No one knows Isabella the way he does and he's the best person to take care of her in this fragile condition.

“Not with what she needs for the baby,” the sparkly imp informs.

“What does she need. I'll do it,” he argues back.

“I don't trust you to do it,” the lizard man says with repulsion. “In two months.” He holds two fingers in the air. “A midwife will arrive at your home. You will accept her and she will provide Isabella with what the baby needs.”

“Fine,” Alasdair grumbles, grinding his teeth.

He doesn't want anyone associated with The Dark One around his wife, but if the baby needs special care, he won't deny it. Alasdair has no ill feelings towards the child, only with the creature that spawned it.

“I also have a doctor for her,” The Dark One adds. “She can not go to just any old quack. They would only tell her something is wrong. She needs to be assured that everything is normal.”

“And what do I have to do?” Alasdair’s stomach turns the moment he asks.

“You don't do anything until the day the child is born, that's when I will tell you want to do. Until then, you will remain a loving and supporting husband.”

Anger builds up inside Alasdair from hearing all the vile beasts instructions and he erupts uncontrollably. “Fine! Fine! FINE!”, he yells viciously in The Dark One's face. “NOW GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY SHOP!”

The lizard man grins, appreciating Alasdair's rage. “Gladly.” He bows, disappearing in a mist of purple smoke.

“AHHHH!” Alasdair cries out in a primal roar, hurling his cane across the shop, knocking over dozens of books from the shelf behind the register.

He fists his hands in his hair, collapsing to his knees and lays down on the hardwood floor. He wants nothing more but to stay here a rot.

As he sobs on the floor in the fetal position, Alasdair’s head throbs with one of the worst headaches he’s has in his life . Wishing he could turn back time. He didn't think there would be anything to make him second guess this deal. It always felt like the best choice for his family, but he has been proven dead wrong.

The phone in the pocket of his pinstriped black suit starts to buzz, but he ignores the call and continues drowning in his sorrows.

After the phone buzzes several more times, he finally gains the strength to answer.

He takes the mobile device out of his pocket and flips it open. “W-w-what?”, he weeps.

“Baby, are you okay?” Isabella asks on the other line. “Where are you? You’ve been gone nearly an hour.”

“I'm so sorry, Isabella,” he apologizes, but not for being gone an hour. He apologizes for what he's done and now has the urge to tell her how he managed to ruin their lives.  

“Are you crying? What's wrong?”

“I made a mistake,” he whimpers into the phone, drying more tears from his cheeks.

“What mistake?”

“I lied to you and now it's going to cost us something huge.”

“What is it?”, she asks frantic. She's never heard him sound so devastated over the phone. “I'm sure we can work things out, babe. Tell me what it is?”

He slowly sits up, clearing the tears from his face and fights off the yearning of telling her what’s happening. He can’t possibly tell her the truth. They've waited too long to have this child, and knowing that she would have to give it up to a beast, would only kill her.

“I lied to you about the vandals in the shop last week. There were no vandals.” He tells her this truth, instead of the the truth rotting away at him about their unborn child.

“There weren't? Well… Honey, that's okay. That's nothing to cry about.”

“After you left that day we argued about the pregnancy test, I destroyed the counter and all the antiques that was in it . The insurance won't pay for it and we're going to be out a few grand.”

“Alasdair, you didn't have to lie about that. You know you could tell me anything. And it's nothing to cry about, sweetie. We can afford a few grand.”

“I know. I just hate that I have to lie to you.”

“Baby, come home. I'm feeling better now and we can talk about this. Please come home, so you can feel better too.”

“Alright, sweetheart. I'm at the shop, so I'll be there in a minute.”

“Okay. You come straight home.”

“I will.”

“Good…. I love you, Alasdair.”

Those five little words melts his heart and he feels a thousand times worse than he felt before. There's so much guilt coiling up inside him already, that it makes him physically sick.

“I love you too,” he chokes and immediately slams his flip phone shut.

He stands to his feet as quickly as he can and staggers to the restroom to vomit.


	3. Perversion Of Nature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabella wakes with an uncontrollable energy pulsing through her and there's only one cure for her urges. Deathly symptoms to Isabella's unnatural pregnancy start to emerge. Alasdair Gold is sick of playing by The Dark One’s rules and is desperate to get his wife to a hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of things happened in the smut scene that even I wasn’t prepared for. I hope it turned out okay. The story itself is moving nicely. I like how things are going. There’s also a good amount of angst to this chapter, just a warning. I hope those who read enjoy. Happy reading.

_[two weeks later]_

Isabella Gold breathes heavily, as every pore on her body secretes sweat, forming a pool in the soft cotton sheet of the mattress which she lays. She suddenly pops open her vivid lapis eyes in the middle of the night, waking from yet another stimulating dream.

“Baby?”, she whispers, turning onto her right side and shuffles closer to her husband. “Alasdair?” Caresses her hand over his silk, black, button-down pajama shirt.

Having drifted in and out of sleep all night and fallen asleep again only ten minutes before, Alasdair Gold opens his eyes to her gentle touch. He hasn't slept much since the day he learned the price of the deal he made with The Dark One. A deal that has ruined both of their lives and secretly eats away at him with every waking breath.

“Yes, sweetheart?” He licks his dry lips.

“Were you asleep?” She rests her head on his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heart.

“I was trying to sleep.” He wraps his arm around her, sensing her gown damp with sweat. “Are you alright? You're dripping in sweat again. Are you hot?”

“I am hot, but not in the way you think.”

“What?”

“I had a dream. A vibrant and detailed dream.” She slips her hand under the thick comforter, making her way to the front of his pants.

“Uh….”, he grunts, removing her hand from his crotch. “What are you doing, Isabella?”

“I need you,” she murmurs, placing tiny sweet kisses on his chest. “I need you inside me now.”

“Belle,” he breathes. “It's almost 3 a.m., and we both work in the morning.”

“I have this yearning for you.” She abruptly yanks the blanket off of them both and straddles her legs around his waist, perching herself above him. “I can't fight it.” She rolls her hips, grazing his flaccid cock over her pulsating center through their clothing. Her drenched panties moistens the front of his pants. “Ah!”, she moans.

“Sweetheart?” He grabs her by the shoulders, stopping her gyrations. “What was this dream about?”

“We were having sex. It was the most incredible sex I ever felt in a dream.” She closes her eyes and her head falls back, imagining herself back in that surreal world. “We both had the feeling that someone was watching us, but it wasn't an unwelcome feeling. We wanted him to join us.” She rasps against his crotch, keeping herself on edge. “Ah!”

“ _Him?_ ” His grip around her shoulders slowly tightens. She can't be speaking of the one he thinks. “Did you see _him_? How did you know it was a _he_?”

“I didn't see him. I only felt him when he touched me. It felt like a man, almost like you. He knew my body, both of our bodies.” She continues the gyration of her hips. “He touched us both and we enjoyed every moment.” Her hands slide up his chest and she cups the sides of his neck. “It looked like it was only you and me there, but it felt like three.”  She nibbles on her bottom lip, leaning into him for a kiss. “We wanted more.” Presses her moist lips against his. “More and more and more,” she mummers upon his hot breath. “We couldn't get enough of each other until we both had the most unbelievable orgasms. But that wasn't all.” She suddenly sits up and rides her husband with unexpected vigor.

The solid wood headboard crashes against the ocean blue painted wall with every buck of her hips.

“We had multiple orgasms having indescribable, pleasurable, things done to us by the invisible voyeur.” She flips her untamed chestnut hair out of her face and digs her crimson manicured nails into his chest. “Ah… Ah… Fuck!... Then we… Then we…”

Alasdair's eyes widen, flabbergasted by this raw animalistic behavior which is unlike her. “That's enough, Belle!” He wraps his hands around her waist, anchoring her down the best that he can.

She catches her breath, swallowing down several dry gulps. “But I'm not finished telling you.”

“Just stop it!”, he demands, can't stand to hear more. He wants to tell her why she might be having these strange dreams, but he still thinks it's best to keep her away from the truth. He gazes at his wife’s saturated body. The sweat on her flesh shimmers from the light of the moon beaming through their bedroom window. He can tell she's starving for hydration. “Drink the water on the nightstand, Belle.” He reaches over, turning on the dim reading lamp.

Every night Alasdair brings a class of ice water to the bedroom. He often gets thirsty in the middle of the night.

“But I'm not thirsty,” she swiftly replies.

“Please, just drink it,” he begs.

“Okay, Alasdair.” She swoops up the glass of room temperature water. “Okay. I'll drink it.” Gulps down the glass in one swallow.

“Do you feel better?” He gently takes the glass, resting it back on the nightstand.

“I feel the same.” She gazes down upon the concerned expression on his face. “I'm sorry.” She kneads her hands on his chest. “I don't know what's come over me.” She clutches tightly to his shirt. “My entire body is tingling with electricity. It isn't going to stop…. I can't make the volts charging in me stop.”

He looks into his wife's lust filled eyes and he can see the feral energy burning within her. She can't control this thing that has taken over her and it's all his fault that this is even happening. He must do all he can to help ease her from these uncontrolled urges and bring her back to herself.

“Okay, Isabella.” He caresses her redden heated cheek. “Let's do something with this electricity in you.”

“Are you sure? I can try to just touch myself. I know it won't be enough, but I can try.”  

“Yes, I'm sure,” he answers honestly. “I'm not ready yet, but I know that won't last long.”

“I can help you fix that.” She pulls her silk gown over her head, exposing her bare breasts, and tosses it to the floor. Her porcelain flesh flushes with sexual desire. She twists her erect nipple between her fingers as she slowly grinds against her husband. “It's not enough,” she breathes.

“I know it isn’t and I'm not ready yet, but I'm trying.” He cups her warm voluptuous mounds, squeezing them with his eyes shut tightly. He thinks about the friction against his pants and the softness of her beautiful breasts, but the only image that flashes behind his eyelids is the image of The Dark One laughing in his face. “Ahh….”, he howls in a mix of horror and pleasure, instantly popping open his eyes. “I'm going to look at you, my love.”

“Yes…. Yes….”, she sighs sensually, increasing the rhythm of her hips. “Look at me, baby.”

He grapples onto her waist, watching her breasts flop loosely with her movements. The hypnotizing tempo of them usually help to get his blood flowing, but tonight he'll need something more to lure out his sexual ravenous.

Alasdair unties the ribbon of her white lace bikini panties at the hips and pulls the cloth out from under her. Now only her glistening dark curls bush over his thin pajama pants. He can feel her warm nectar seeping through. “Uh….”, he involuntary grunts as his hips buck forward.

“Aren't you glad I wore those?”, she asks, unbuttoning the black buttons on his shirt.

“Yes.” He rakes his fingers through her doused, neatly trimmed, mound of hair. “Tease me, Belle,” he pleads. “I'm not getting hard. I always get hard when you tease me.”

She abruptly stops her grinding motion. “I thought you'd never ask,” she says in a low tone which oozes sex. She sits up on her knees so that he can easily pull down his pants and boxer briefs, then she takes his soft cock into her right hand. She saturates her left hand with the juices of her sex then spreads her warm syrup on his member. “You like that, Alasdair?”

“Yes, my love.”

“Good.” She leans back supporting herself with her left hand on his thigh and rests his cock between the lips of her pussy. She holds it in place as she rolls her hips again, teasing his manhood with her dripping fluttering petals. “Ahh….”, she cries in ecstasy, as the crack of her ass fondles his swelling balls. “Ah, ah.” She brushes his blushing tip against the brim of her clit. “It's not enough…. Ah!”

“I know, sweetheart, I know. But I'm getting harder.”

“Yes…. Mmm…. You are.” She strokes his cock with several quick motions of her hand. “Look at my pussy, sweetie. I know you'll get harder if you look at it.”

He sluggishly lifts the upper part of his body, holding himself up on his elbows. “I see it, Isabella.”

“It's pink, warm, soft, and soaked with sweet honey just for you.” She separates the lips with her fingers and slides her slippery open slit against his trembling balls. “You wanna submerge your semi-stiffness inside?”

“I can get harder, Belle. I know I can.”

“It's okay, baby. You'll get harder once I stuff it inside me.”

“Belle?”

“Shhh….” She brings her sticky hand to her mouth when she shushes him.  “I'm gonna take good care of you….” She licks her fingers. “I'm gonna take such good care of you!” She takes his partially rigid cock and gently crams it into her tight slick hole. “Oooo….” Her body shivers. “We should have done this before you got a little hard. I love your soft, squishy cock.” She slowly finishes unbuttoning his night shirt and rest her hands flat upon his bare hairless chest. “Can you feel that?” She constricts the walls of her warm pussy around him.

“Yes,” he sighs, eyes rolling back in the bliss of her tightness.

“Oooo…. I feel you too. You're getting so hard.” She slowly grinds against him. “I love feeling you grow inside me.”

“I told you I could get harder.”

“Yes you did, baby, and you were right.” She rolls her hips. “I'm sorry for being impatient.”

“It's okay, Belle. You just know what you want.”

“Mmhmm….”, she nods, caressing her warm pillowy breasts.

He thrusts within her, growing more confident with the stiffness of his eight inches.

“Ah!” She flips her hair with the arching of her back. “There you are, Alasdair. You're waking up now.”  

“Yes, I am.” He charges his hips again and again.

“Ah, ah!”, she moans with every prod of his thickening manhood. “Ah, ah…. It's not enough…. Ah, ah.” Her manicured nails scrape against the flesh of his chest, but she doesn't break the skin.

“Uh…. Oh, uh….” He incenses his momentum, plunging balls deep inside her. “How…. Do we…. Make it…. Enough?”

“I need more penetration.”

He pulls her down so that she's laying on top of him, while he continues to drive hard inside her. “You need more penetration?”, he snarls thickly into her ear, holding her sweaty body down against his own.

“Yes…. Alasdair…. Oh, yes!”

“Then that's what you'll fucking get.”

“I love when you talk rough to me.”

“I know you do.” He reaches over to the nightstand and opens the top drawer. His hand urgently fumbles around to find the bottle of lubricant and the vibrating sex toy they keep inside.

“I can get it for you, baby.”

“I got it, Belle.” He finds the lube and sits it on the top of the nightstand. “You stay right where you are.” He bucks strongly within her, finding the vibrator when his hip clashes against her body again.

“Ah!”, she breathes, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

Their fevered hot breath fills the room as he pumps globs of lubrication into his right hand. His left hand slide down the length of her back, lightly scratching his nails against her fair skin. He squeezes her plump pear shaped ass before separating the cheeks, then follows behind with his slippery fingers.

Alasdair oils her pulsating hole with the lube on his hand and the mix of their natural sex liquids. And once she’s slick, he slowly eases in two fingers inside, gently stretching her out to take in more.

“Oh…. That feels so good.” She rocks her body. “It's almost enough.”

He twists his fingers and adds in another every time he pulls out, allowing her body to get used to the pressure. “Are you ready to cum, Belle?”

“I will be.” She peppers his neck with kisses.

He pulls his hand out one last time and fills it with more lubrication. He then spreads the lube onto the shaft of the rose colored vibrator and guides the blunt end to her relaxed ring. He slides in the tip, teasing her by pulling it in and out, then fills her backdoor with the thick vibrator.

“Mmm…. Tune it on.” She claws and grips at the pillows underneath his head. “Turn it on!” She grinds her dripping pussy fiercely against his cock.

“Yes, my love,” he whispers, flicking on the switch.

“Oh fuck!” She suddenly sits up and rides her husband hard and fast. She grips into the headband and the entire bed rocks, every time her pussy pounds against his cock.

Alasdair wraps his hands around her back and lifts his head to suck on the warm sweaty breasts dancing in his face. “I'm gonna cum, Belle… Oh, fuck! … I'm gonna cum!” His head falls back into the pillow as his heavy balls throb from all the sexual stimulation. He clutches his jaw and his body quakes as intense pressure coils up deep within his core. An undeniable pulsation develops at the base of his shaft and he doesn't hold back from what this sensation is signaling. Alasdair Gold digs his nails into his wife’s soft back as his cock erupts forcefully deep inside her constricting gushing walls, expelling a thick, heavy load of cum.

“Oh, baby, that face was beautiful.” She pounces on top of him as his hot fresh cream oozes out of her, spreading the milky sheen of cum on the shaft of his hard cock. The sensation of the vibrator in her ass is becoming too much to bear, but she needs just a little more for her full release.

Isabella removes her right hand from the headboard and slips it between the sloppy wet lips of her pleasure center, adding much-needed attention to her sensitive pink bundle of nerves.  “Oh, Gods!”, she shouts, arching her back as her stiffening body flashes brightly with sexual heat, dipping with more sweat. She tries to hold back just a little longer, but surrenders to the intense pleasure between her legs. Her body suddenly spasms from the ripple of her forceful orgasm. “Oh, Alasdair. I love you…. I love you!”, she pants as the swollen lips between her thighs throbs hard and fast around his cock, bathing him with more of her sweet juices. She takes a few deep breaths before finally collapsing on top of him. Her pussy unexpectedly squirts when their overheated bodies clash together.

Alasdair’s cock twitches as their hot sexual liquids mix while it drips down his legs onto the stained sheet of the mattress. The room reeks with the undeniable musk of sex and sweat. The only sound in the entire house is their heavy breathing and the buzzing of the toy in Isabella’s asshole.

Nearly five minutes pass when movement returns to Isabella's body. She removes the vibrating sex toy and slowly lifts herself from her husband. There's a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach, but she thinks she can control it.

Isabella blinks, brushing the hair from his face and licks her dry salty lips as she glares disoriented around the room. “Thank you, Alasdair,” she says with a scratchy voice.

The electricity that once pulsed within her has vanished. All that's left is the feeling in her gut.

“I should be getting home now,” she adds, dropping the sex toy to the floor.

Alasdair opens his eyes, gazing with concern at his wife. “What?”, he questions her odd choice of words yet again.

She wipes her mouth on the back of her hand. “Don't be silly, Alasdair. You know my father would kill me if he knew I was out this late.” The words slur from her lips.

“Sweetheart? You haven’t lived with your father since the day you ran away.”

Isabella gawks down at him, confused by his words and she suddenly coughs. She leans over the side of the bed and vomits in the small trash bin that's usually reserved for paper.

“Oh, sweetheart!”, he shrieks, eyes wide with shock.

Once she finishes dumping out her stomach extractions, Isabella cuts her eyes back at her husband. She licks her lips and wipes them clean on her hand again, then collapse back onto his chest.

“Belle? Belle? Isabella?” He anxiously shakes her.

Isabella remains lying on his chest, snoring in his ear. She's instantly fallen into a deep sleep with Alasdair's hard cock still snugly inside her.

Alasdair knew that her pregnancy would be the furthest from the norm. But he never would have guessed to be awoken in the middle of the night to cure her raw and strange craving for untamed sex.

Isabella only snores when she's in the deepest of sleep. Alasdair is hoping that she’ll feel like herself when she wakes in the morning.

##  **\-----**

The next morning, Alasdair awakes at 11:26 a.m. Four hours late of when he usually opens the antique shop. His wife still lays resting on his chest, but they're no longer intimately connected. His cock slipped out of her after falling asleep. The mess of their early morning encounter still remains, however.

“Isabella?”, he whispers, brushing the hair behind her ear and kisses her cheek.

“Mmm….” She rolls off of her husband onto her back. “My body hurts,” she moans.

“I'm sorry, my dear.” He turns to her. “I might have gotten a bit too rough.”

“It wasn't just you,” she smirks with a wink.

“You don't have to tell me that.”

She snickers to herself, feeling a slight queasiness in her stomach, but she manages to fight it off. “Don't make me laugh.”

“I'll try not too.” He massages her warm breast, lightly squeezing.

“I feel like I was drunk, but I remember everything. I wanted everything.”

“You were a bit demanding.” He traces circles around her pebbled nipple. “But I did my best to comply.”

“You were incredible.” She turns to him, cupping his cheek. “And sweet as always.” Softly kisses his lips. Nether of them care about the taste of the water she spewed in the waste basket. “I'm sorry about mentioning my father. That came from nowhere and I think it was a sign that you had actually fucked my brains out.”

“Isabella…”, he says breathy and a smug smile curls up at the corners of his lips. He feels as though she had fucked his brains out as well. “It's alright. It was a little freaky, but the whole situation was freaky.”

“Yeah, but it was fun.”

“It was fun,” he agrees, softly grazing his thumb across her bottom lip. “Looks like we're missing work today.”

“That seems to be the case, but we can spend the day just relaxing with each other.”

“Don't you think the town would be lost without the library being open today or without their favorite librarian?”, he teases.

Though he spends every waking moment drowning in the guilt of the deal he struck, Alasdair always tries to find little ways to make their lives as normal as possible.

“I think they can handle one day without me,” she giggles, raking her hands through his silver threads. She adores the way his hair is always silky smooth.

“The town just might burn without you.”

“Well, you better hope that doesn't happen.” She scoots closer to him. “If it does it mean that I can never take a vacation to spend any time with you.”

“We can't let that ever happen.”

“No.” She closes her eyes and nips sweetly at his lips. “We can't.” She turns onto her back, pulling him on top of her. “Mmm, Mr. Gold,” she purrs sensually.

“Yes, Mrs. Gold?”

“I love you,” she hums on his soft lips.

“I love you too.” He kisses her intensely.

“Mmm…” She gently breaks the kiss. “Do you love our baby?”, she asks hushed.

He lowers his brow and moves away from her lips, glaring into her eyes with suspicion. “Of course, I do. Why would you ask me that?” The tone in his voice completely shifts the atmosphere in the room.

Isabella looks back with uneasiness. “I didn't ask to make you upset, honey. It was just a rhetorical question.”

“It didn't feel like a rhetorical question,” he hastily replies.

How can she ask such a thing with what he deals with every day? Stressing to find a way for them to keep their baby.

“I love your baby, Belle, and I would do anything to protect it,” he defensively adds.

“Our baby, Alasdair.”

“What?” Tilts his head to the right.

“You said,  _your baby._ But what you meant to say was,  _ours_ ,” she clarifies.

“Yes, our baby,” he nods. “I meant to say ours. You know that.”

With an ocean of distressing thoughts clouding up in his mind, the word ‘yours’ slipped from his lips without passing through his mental filter. He'd never treat the child any differently than if it was his own. Saying the wrong word was an honest mistake. The stress of keeping all the secrets organized inside is starting to show on the surface. He often feels sick with apprehension.

“Why are you throwing little things in my face like this?”  A taut expression stretches on his features.

“I'm not throwing anything in your face,” she tries to assure him. “You just said something that needed to be corrected. It just sounded strange, that's all.”

“You said a lot of strange things last night and I didn't throw them in your face.”

“Alasdair?” She squints at him, confused by his misconception of the conversation and his slight hostility. “Why are you doing this?”

“I'm not doing anything. I’m just telling you how I feel.”

“And how do you feel?”

“It's just that you've been throwing a lot of little things in my face lately and I haven't said anything about them. But right now I'm just done with it.”

A blank expression falls on Isabella's face. She can't believe he spoke to her like she was just an irritant that he could shove to the side whenever it becomes a bother. “Get off of me.” She pushes his shoulders, forcing him away from her. “Get off of me!”, she bellows in anger.

Alasdair falls back to his side of the bed. Whenever she tells him not to touch her, he always complies.

Isabella rolls out of bed the instant she's free from underneath him. “You're the one that's been having little mood swings lately,” she argues, pointing her finger angrily at him. “You keep pulling me back and forth. I never know how you feel. I'm the one that's pregnant, but you're the one that’s unpredictable.” She quickly slips her bare feet into the pink fuzzy houseshoes by the bed. “So you know what I'm done with right now?” She picks up the thick comforter she pulled off of them last night, balls it up, and tosses it directly at him. “It's you!”  She storms out of the bedroom, wearing only houseshoes, with her hands on her hips.

Alasdair fights his way out of the blanket that landed on his head “Where are you going?”, he shouts once he's free from the net of fluffy bedding.

“Don't talk to me!”, she yells back, slamming shut one of the doors down the hall.

Alasdair punches his closed fist into the mattress and tosses a pillow across the room. “Fuck!”

He stews in his anger for several moments. Not upset with Isabella, but with himself. Everything that has just transpired was all his fault. Why can't he keep his emotions under control? If he's to keep her safe from knowing what he's done, he must not take his frustrations out on her.

Alasdair stands from the bed and pulls up his pants and boxer briefs that have been down around his ankles all night. He takes his black and gold handled cane from the wall and staggers to the bathroom. He knows that's the room his wife went to escape from his ignorance.

“Belle?” He knocks on the bathroom door.

“I told you not to talk to me,” her brittle voice cracks.

“Are you crying, sweetheart?” He presses his body against the locked wood door. “I didn't mean to make you cry.”

“Well, you did.”

“You don't have to open the door.” He rests his head upon the bathroom door, fighting off the urge to beat his head through the hardwood. He feels so stupid and even more guilty than before he knew she was crying. “But I want you to know that I'm sorry. I have a lot on my mind lately and I have no right to take it out on you. I'm just scared and I don't know what to do.”

“Scared?....”, she sniffles. “Scared of what?”

He lifts his head from the door and stares up at the ceiling, holding back the tears burning in his eyes. Alasdair wants to tell her the truth, but that would only ruin her life as much as it has ruined his own. He needs to find a solution to getting them out of this hellish deal before he could even fathom telling her anything. He does, however, divulge part of the truth. At least some parts that are emotionally draining.

“Being a father again,” he confesses through the door, heart beating rapidly in his narrow chest. “Everything I've done has been wrong. I've already screwed everything up and the child isn’t even born.”

“No, you haven't.”

“Yes, I have.” Tears of sorrow stream down his cheek.

“You've been an amazing father and everything you've done for me and our unborn child has been right.”

Her words burn on his skin like a branding iron. He doesn't deserve to hear such sweet thing spoken about him. “Please don't tell me that. That's not what I need to hear right now.”

“It is what you need to hear because it's the truth.”

“Oh, Isabella. I wish I could believe that that was true.”

“Alasdair.”

Her voice sounds closer. He thinks she may be standing just on the other side of the door.

“You are an amazing father. You've been one for years with Neal and you're going to be one again for our child. Why are you thinking like this, honey? What's scaring you?”

Alasdair remains silent. He's already said too much.

“Are you still out there?”, she asks.

“Yes, Belle, I'm still here.”

“I was making sure. You got so quiet out there.”

“I know,” he answers softly.

“It's okay if you don't want to talk to me anymore.”

“I do want to talk to you, just not about this.”

“Okay. We don't have to talk about it now, but I do think we should talk about it sometime.”

“We will, I promise.”

Isabella opens the door, wrapped in a white cotton bath towel. She places her hand on his cheek and tenderly dries the tears from his eyes with her thumb.

“I'm sorry, Belle.” He melds into her touch. “I really didn't mean to make you cry.”

“I accept your apology.”

“Thank you.”

She takes his cane and leans it against the wall. She then holds his right hand, lacing their fingers together. “Come on, baby.” She gently pulls him into the bathroom. “I'm gonna let you make me a warm bubble bath and then you can join me.”

##  **\-----**

_[One month later]_

Isabella’s erotic dreams and sudden late night cravings for sex have given way to chronic pain and weight loss for the past two days. Nothing she eats stays down and everything she drinks tastes like battery acid. She's read countless maternity books in the library and has spent hours searching the internet to find any information about symptoms like hers, but she comes up short. Her body doesn't feel like her own and she needs to know what’s happening. Being that this is her first pregnancy, Isabella had expected to feel changes with her body. But she can't help but think that nothing is normal.

Alasdair has tried his best to keep his wife from panicking. He knows that her condition is due to her carrying a child that's half magical entity. Nothing was expected to be normal in this pregnancy and nothing has so far. He hasn't heard anything from The Dark One about this doctor or midwife who are supposed to help Isabella through this unnatural pregnancy. It's been one month and two weeks since he's had the misfortune of talking to the sparkly lizard man and now he's fed up with trying to do things The Dark One’s way. Isabella is suffering. Her comfort and happiness is all that matters to him.

Isabella stands in the kitchen, trying to keep her weakened body above the stove. She drops a thick rib eye steak into the scalding cast iron skillet and sears it for thirty seconds. She flips the steak and cooks for another thirty seconds, then moves it to a plate.

She shuffles to the center island counter and hunches over the raw bloody meat. She picks it up with her dainty hands and dives into the black and blue protein like a crazed carnivore.

Alasdair enters the kitchen, finding his pale wife tearing through the steak like it was cut from the last cow on earth.

“Belle?”, he says alarmed, staggering to her side, stopping her from eating raw meat for the fourth time this week. “You know that this could make you sick.”

“I know, but I cooked it this time.” She rips out a ring of white fat with her teeth, hooding her bloodshot eyes at him.

“You didn't cook it enough, sweetheart.” He takes the plate and holds it under the blood dripping steak dangling from her mouth. “Give it here.”

“It's the only thing that makes the pain stop.”

“It's going to make you sick.”

“I’m already sick!”, she cries in agony, never felt so hopeless in her life. She feels like a prisoner in her own body.

“Please listen to me, Isabella,” he begs of her. “I don't want you to get sicker.”

“I don't want to be in torment anymore!....”, she snaps at him, flashing a grimace of pain. Suddenly Isabella starts to choke and drops the steak on the plate. She stumbles to the kitchen sink, vomiting up everything she's eaten.

“Oh, Isabella,” he bellows, letting go of his cane and gimps to her. “Oh, Isabella.” He holds her hair out of her face, gently rubbing her back.

“Something's wrong with the baby. I'm supposed to be gaining weight, not losing it. I lost three pounds yesterday.” she coughs and hacks up more chunks of meat. “Did you call the hospital again?”, she forces out her words, body trembling in anguish.

“Yes, my love, I did. I just got off the phone with them and they said the same thing. There are no doctors that can see you.”

“They're lying!”, her voice booms across the kitchen. “They can't deny a patient care.”

“I know that sweetheart, I know,” he whimpers.

Alasdair thinks that The Dark One is behind Isabella not receiving any treatment from the hospital. He knows that he's powerful enough to persuade or even completely change someone's way of thinking. He could have done that to everyone at the Storybrooke hospital so that no one would know the kind of child she's carrying. Or tell Isabella that they've never seen anything like her pregnancy.

“Let's go, Belle.” He helps her up from the sink, wrapping her arm around his shoulder.

“Where are we going?”

“I'm driving you over to the next town. I'm taking you to the hospital there.” He leads her to the kitchen door, but Isabella’s feet abruptly stops moving.

“I don't think so, dearie.”

That jarring voice sends tingles down Alasdair's spine and he knows exactly who spat out those words. He turns his head and finds The Dark One sitting on top of the counter, eating Isabella's steak.

“You're not taking her across the town line,” The Dark One’s bloody lips hisses.

Alasdair gazes at his wife and she appears to be frozen in time. “What have you done to her?!”, he roars.

“It's just a simple time-stopping spell.” He tosses the steak to the floor and hops down from the counter, slithering over to Alasdair and Isabella. “Your wife….” Leans into him. “Is fine,” snarls through his crooked stained teeth. “You didn't want Isabella seeing me the last time. This is just a way that I remain unseen from her.”

“So what do you want?” Alasdair’s grip tightens around his wife. The Dark One would have to pry her from his cold dead vice-like grip before he can try to take her away.

“I came here to stop you, dearie.”

“Stop me from what?”, Alasdair asks hoarsely. “From taking care of my wife! She's sick, starving and in endless pain. She needs to go to a hospital.”

“I told you the last time we spoke that I would take care of this in two months,” The Dark One spits as he yelps in Alasdair's face. “She shouldn't need the midwife for another two weeks.”

“Well apparently the baby isn't sticking to your schedule,” he barks back.

The Dark One stares coldly at Alasdair with a twitch in his right eye. He tilts his head slightly to the left and takes another step closer. “You're right,” he growls and disappears in a haze of purple smoke.

“Oooh….”, Isabella's aching moans fill the kitchen once again. “I thought we were going to the hospital, honey?”

“W-w-we are,” he stutters and leads them toward the kitchen door. “We are, my love.”

Alasdair limps supporting most of his wife's weight on his shoulders. He doesn't give a damn about the pain shooting down his own busted right leg. He gathers the car keys, Isabella's purse and a quilt to cover her during the long drive to the next town. They then shuffle to the front door to start their journey.

When Alasdair opens the heavy wood door of their pink Victorian manor, the couple is met with the presence of a woman.

The woman stands erect with her hands behind her back. The black hat she wears with a green feather on the right side covers her fiery curly hair which falls down to her back. Her ocean blue eyes sparkle when she smiles at the couple and she extends her gloved hand to greet Alasdair.

“I'm Zelena Mills.” An undeniably posh English accent escapes her painted lips. “The hospital sent me over as your midwife.”

Alasdair gawks at the woman. He knows that behind her pleasant and friendly appearance that there's something wicked inside. “The hospital doesn't just send over midwives,” he snarls, tightening his grip on Isabella yet again. This has to be the person The Dark One had spoken of.

“You've been calling the hospital all week and they decided to send me in to help,” Zelena informs. “I'm to take Mrs. Gold to see Dr. Victor Whale immediately.”

“She's not seeing any doctor of yours. I'm taking her to the hospital over in the next town.” He tries to push their way past Zelena, but Isabella stops him in his tracks.

“Wait, baby,” her weak voice whispers. “Did she say Dr. Whale?”

“Yes, sweetheart, but what does that matter?”

“I know Dr. Whale.” She licks her dry broken lips. “He's one of the best obstetricians in the country. I just finished reading one of his books.”

“That doesn't matter. If she was sent to take you to him, then I don't trust him.”

“I trust him, Alasdair,” Isabella confesses. “I trust his research, his work. If anybody’s gonna knows what wrong with me, it's him.”

“No, Isabella. I don't trust them.”

“You're always talking about how you want to do right by me and the baby. The most horrible thing you can do is not let me see Dr. Whale.”

Alasdair sees suffering in Isabella’s eyes and he wants nothing more but to have it all end. He knows that these are the people The Dark One sent to assist Isabella. Their presence at his doorstep rages the fire in his blood. He thought there would be a way to stop this from happening, but Isabella wants to willingly go with them. Alasdair can not deny her choice to go.

“Alright, Belle,” he says eventually.

“Thank you, baby,” she kisses his cheek. “Thank you.”

Zelena immediately steps between them and takes Isabella’s arm, wrapping it around her shoulders. “I'm happy we got that settled.” She starts to help Isabella down the porch steps. “Go fetch your cane Mr. Gold and meet us out at your car. Your wife is good hands now.”


	4. Vivid Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabella Gold sees Dr. Whale about her deathly symptoms. Alasdair Gold wakes his wife from a nightmarish slumber. He then threatens Zelena to show him how to contact The Dark One.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished it! Kept it a bit shorter than I originally intended, but less was better here in building the suspense. The mythology about The Dark One will be revealed soon for those who still have questions about him. You still have a wait ahead of you, kiddies, but we’re getting there :) I’m content with the way this chapter came out and how the story is unfolding up to this point. I hope those who read enjoys, and if you like, let me know what you think. Happy reading!

## Part Four: Vivid Nightmare

 

“This isn't a hospital—” Alasdair Gold parks his black Cadillac next to the curb— “it's a B&B,” grumbles. He followed the directions given to him by Zelena Mills, midwife, to the town's only bed and breakfast. This isn't the place he expected to take his pregnant, ill, wife.

“This is all that could be done on such short notice,” Zelena says from the back seat, wiping Isabella’s sodden brow with the cold damp towel Alasdair grabbed from the kitchen when he went back inside the house to fetch his cane before they all left together. “Doctor Whale was in town to give a presentation. When the hospital heard of your case, they called him right up,” she adds, gathering Isabella’s purse and the quilt she had keeping herself warm. “They figured he'd be perfect to help a desperate couple in need. If he can help you, the hospital plans to give him a temporary office there. But for now, meeting here is all we could do.”

Alasdair turns in the seat peeking back at his wife who doesn’t look any healthier than before. Actually, her appearance has grown worse. Her skin is dry with a ghost-like pigment and the dark circles around her eyes are even more prominent. He’s horrified of how quickly her appearance has changed and guilty that her misery is all his fault. “Oh, Belle,” he sighs with a broken heart, reaching back to stroke her pastel cheek. “Does being here feel right to you?” Everything about this situation is suspicious to Alasdair, but he needs to know how his wife feels. But before Isabella could open her mouth to speak, he notices Zelena, through his peripheral vision, holding Isabella’s items. His blood immediately fumes at the display. “What are you doing with her stuff?”, he snaps, glaring at her with a grimace of mistrust.

“Alasdair, baby, why are you getting hostile?”, Isabella moans, agony crippling her soft voice. “She’s only doing her job.” Licks her dehydrated lips. She thought they were past all of this at the house. He agreed to bring her to the doctor, but why is he still acting this way?

He knows that this midwife and doctor are The Dark One’s puppets and he wants them to have no part with his wife’s pregnancy. But it was Isabella’s choice to come here and he must respect it. His resentment isn’t even just about the fact that Zelena is holding Isabella’s items, it’s mostly about how complacent and presumptuous she is while claiming to be helping his wife. He saw all of the expression of delight on her face through the rearview mirror while he was driving. He can tell that Zelena is excited about Isabella giving birth to whatever it is she’s bringing to life. He wants to drag her out of the car every time she touches Isabella, but acting like an alpha male won’t help his wife get any better or make her feel at ease.

“I'm sorry, my love,” he apologizes wholeheartedly, giving her back his full attention. “You're right. She is only doing her job.” He reaches over the seat, grabbing the items from Zelena anyway, holding back the violent urge to snatch them out of her lap. He only takes them calmly so that he doesn't upset his wife any further. “Come on, sweetheart, let's get you out of the car.” He opens his door and swiftly shuffles out, then helps Isabella with hers.

“I can get her.”

Alasdair’s skin crawls when he abruptly hears Zelena’s grating voice from behind him. He’s so focused on Isabella that he never heard or saw Zelena step out from the other side of the car. He turns his head slightly, scowling at Zelena from the corner of his eye. “No,” he snarls through his teeth and reaches inside the car for his wife.

“Baby—” Isabella takes him by the hand— “I know you're scared, but you're not making anything better by keeping her from doing her job.” Her voice is so raspy, she almost doesn't sound like herself. “You don't need to hurt yourself by carrying me in.”

“But, Belle, I don't want her to touch you.”

“Why?”, she questions, as he unbuckles her seatbelt. “She's been nothing but helpful.”

He gazes into her sorrowful eyes, seeing nothing but worry for him. Though she's in agonizing pain, she doesn't want him to injure himself behind his damaged right ankle. “I'm sorry, Belle. I don't know why I keep doing this,” he lies, knowing exactly the reasoning behind his behavior. “But we’re both going to help you in, okay?”

“Okay.” She takes hold of his other hand and steps out. Then Alasdair and Zelena wrap one of her arms around their shoulder and assist her inside the building.

“He's going to help her right?” Alasdair hisses, opening the door to the small cottage style inn.

“I assure you—” Zelena peeks at him from behind Isabella's head, a fiendish grin upon her lips as she speaks— “the good doctor has everything he needs to help, Mrs. Gold.”

##  **~~**

Taken to the living space of the cozy B&B, Isabella is lead to the comfortable floral print couch. She sits hunched forward with her arms wrapped around her stomach, feeling as though there's a fire roaring inside her gut. Sweat mists at her brow, and as Zelena goes to wipe it away, Alasdair snatches the towel from her hand.

“I've got it,” he gnarls in the midwife's direction, kneeling before Isabella. He gently lays her handmade rose pattern quilt over her legs and dries the sweat from her head, gazing into her azure eyes. “You're going to be alright, my love,” he whispers. “You're going to be alright.”

“Yes, she will,” Dr. Whale’s poised voice flows through the room, as he enters.

Alasdair glances at the doctor over his left shoulder, taken aback by his appearance. His platinum blonde hair and fair skin makes him look more like a zombie rather than a serious medical professional. There's no way this guy could be the person who wrote the book Isabella just finished reading. He definitely looks like a pawn for The Dark One and a malpractice case screeching to take action.

“Your wife will be perfectly fine.” The doctor steps up to the couple, slipping his hands into the pockets of his white doctor’s coat.

“How do you know that?” Alasdair cautiously raises to his feet and faces the doctor. “You haven't examined her yet.”

“Well—” shifts his weight to the left, self-assured grin cemented on his face— “I would examine her if you got out of my way.” Crosses his arms.

Alasdair breathes heavily with a twitch in his upper lip. He desperately wishes there was somewhere else he could take her, but trying to get away would only put them both in danger. The Dark One would do all he could to stop them. Alasdair clinches his fist, fighting off the yearning to clobber the doc in his scrawny face, maybe he could knock the smug attitude clean out of him. He takes another deep breath as his cold dead eyes glare through Dr. Whale and he steps to the side, letting him pass. There are no reasons to further stall the inevitable.

“Hello, Mrs. Gold,” the doctor greets his patient, stepping up to her at the couch. “I'm Dr. Victor Whale. I'm so sorry about the inconvenience of meeting here, but I’m going to make sure you're doing well, okay?”

“What's happening to me, doctor?” She hoods her bloodshot eyes up at him. “I've read your book and countless others, but never heard of anyone having symptoms like mine.”

“Your symptoms are what fascinated me and prompted me to miss my flight back to LA. I've been catching up on my research while I awaited your arrival.” He folds his hands together resting his chin upon them, grinning down at Isabella with wonder sparkling in his eyes. “Please excuse me if I appear excited.” He stands erect in a more professional manner. “I never thought I'd see this in my life. I didn't know it could be done.”

“Didn’t know what could be done?”, she questions. What a peculiar choice of words for a doctor to say to his patient.

“Is this your first child, Mrs. Gold?” He changes the subject, brushing his amazement of the birth of a Dark One baby to the side along with her question, then takes out a small light from his pocket, checking the dilatation of Isabella's pupils.

“Yes, it is,” she answers timidly, following the light with her eyes.

“I thought so.” He bends down to one knee. “How many weeks along are you and have you taken anything for the pain?” Places his hand on her stomach.

“No. I haven't taken anything because we couldn't get any doctors to see us and I’m almost eight weeks along.”

“I see, well, I'll be able to perform your first ultrasound once I have my office at the hospital.”

“You're going to stay and treat me?”, she asks, shocked that such a renowned doctor would take her as his patient.

“Of course I am. A rare condition like yours needs a top physician to treat it.”

“What condition is that?”

“From the looks of you and the symptoms you've been experiencing, I’d say you’ve contracted a virus that can happen to any first-time mother.”  He takes her left wrist and checks her pulse. “It's nothing to worry about, I assure you. It is very rare and hasn’t really been publicly documented, but with treatments and a slight change in your diet, you should be able to carry this baby to full term.”

“I have a virus?” She snatches her hand from the doctor, astounded by the news. She's been healthy most of her life and has never had any serious illnesses. “What is it?”

“I'll need to take some blood and run a few tests to make absolutely certain, but you're showing signs of the DO-1 virus. Which is very treatable, I promise.” He snaps his fingers in Zelena's direction and she promptly exits the room, returning with a small kit to perform a venipuncture, drawing of blood.

“I've never heard of that virus, doctor.” She shifts in the couch, scooting back a little.

“Well, as I said—” he gently takes her right arm and wraps the tourniquet around the upper part— “it hasn't been well documented, but I can show you examples of you like.” He takes the pair of white rubber gloves from Zelena and puts them on, then sterilizes the inside part of her elbow with a small alcohol soaked cloth. “Can you make a fist, please?”, he asks his patient.

“I'd just -- I'd just really like to get to the treatment part of all of this.” She closes her hand into a taut fist. “I can't handle the pain any longer.”

“I understand, Mrs. Gold.” He nods with a grin, pleased that she doesn't want to know more about the so-called ‘virus’ she contracted and picks up the needle. “I know you're ready to get to the part where you can enjoy your pregnancy.” Sticks her with the needle and draws out blood. “I'm going to make sure you get there.” Removes the blood-filled needle and places a cap on top, then stops Isabella’s bleeding with a white cotton ball. He rests the needle back on the kit and removes his gloves, snapping his fingers at Zelena again. “The tea,” he orders.

“Yes, doctor.” She slithers to the bookshelf on the left side of the room and takes a silver tray that been in waiting since they've entered the B&B. She rests the tray with the porcelain tea set at the empty seat next to Isabella on the couch and moves back.

“The treatment for DO-1 is very old school,” Dr. Whale explains, lifting the top from the kettle for Isabella to take in the perfume.

Isabella leans over the teakettle and breathes in the steam rising from the jet black liquid. The scent is revolting. “Ugh!” She gags, covering her mouth.

“Yes, the scent and taste are an acquired one.” He chuckles, replacing the top on the kettle. “But your treatment will involve these medicinal plants, like tannis root, which are normally brewed into tea. But there are other ways you can ingest the plants—” picks up the teakettle— “like in a shake or juice blend. Zelena is skilled with mixing up different blends for you. She’ll make sure you get the proper daily dose in case you grow tired of the tea. The tea will help with the pain and flush your body of the virus. You'll also need to start a high protein diet. Your body is craving iron.”

“I've been having a need to eat a lot of meat lately.”

“Yes—” he nods— “your body has been telling you that you're low on iron, that’s because of the virus. It's a good thing you listened to it.” He winks and starts pouring her a cup of tea.

Alasdair watches the scene like a hawk, analyzing the movements of everyone in the room, and it suddenly dawns on him that all of this is just a show. The doctor and midwife may be who they claim they are, but they're putting on this act just to ease Isabella’s mind from her wrenching pain and get her to willingly take these medicinal plants which appear to be what The Dark One told him the baby will need. He can see that this is all to give her some sort of explanation as to why her pregnancy isn't like any other. But he can no longer sit back and watch her fall into their clutches. He thinks she's owed a little more than that.

“We want to see those examples of the documents about this virus.” Alasdair blurts out, stopping the doctor as he pours the hot tea.

The kettle nearly slips from the doctor's hand but manages to keep his composure. “What?” He turns his head to Alasdair. They were supposed to be past all of that.

“She may not want to read the documents now because of all the pain she's in.” He crosses his arms, standing with all of his weight on the left leg. Forgot his cane in the car. “But when she starts to feel better, she's gonna want to know more about her illness.”

Dr. Whale gawks at Alasdair, tipping his head to the left, knowing that he only asks this to cause trouble. The DO-1 virus doesn't fucking exist and all of Isabella's symptoms are the effects of her unnatural pregnancy. The only documentations Whale has is what The Dark One gave him. He wipes the recoiled look of horror off of his face before turning back to Isabella. “Is that true, Mrs. Gold?”, he asks calmly, resting the kettle on the tray and hands her the cup. “You still want to see them?”

“Yes. I would like to read about it once I feel better.”  She takes a sip, cringing as the hot liquid slithers down her throat and smacks her lips with a sour expression. “Alasdair knows me so well,” she adds, once getting over the flavor of the tea.

“Huh,” the doctor huffs, standing to his feet. “I see.” Turns to Alasdair, planting his hands on his hips. “I guess I have no choice but to look something up.”

“Why don't you just give her what you have, doctor?”

“What!?” His eyes nearly pop out of his skull.

“You said you were doing research before we arrived.” Alasdair staggers closer to the doctor. “Just give her copies of whatever you have.”

“I don't have any copies, all I have a book.”

“Then give me the name of the book and I'll buy it for her.”

“You can’t buy this book anywhere.”

“Then let her borrow it,” he snarls through his uneven white teeth. They’re not leaving this place without Isabella having some kind of documentation. He plans on getting it out of the doctor one way or the other.

Dr. Whale glares at Alasdair. If the fact that he looks just like The Dark One doesn't scare him enough, the way he appears to be a man that would do anything for his wife surely does. He may be small in stature, but he seems to be a Scotsman that would make bodies disappear for the simple reason of not handing over a book. The Doctor doesn't want to take any chances. He's been ordered by The Dark One not to give Isabella any means to suggest suspicion about her pregnancy. Not complying with Alasdair's ask just might raise questions. He comes to the concision that handing the book over might not be the worst thing he could do. He'll get to live for another day, but facing The Dark One again might be his last. He’s hoping that with the book being written in a code will work to his advantage. There's no way they can be intelligent enough to crack it.

“Zelena!” Without turning away from Alasdair, Dr. Whale snaps his fingers in the midwife’s direction yet again. “There's a black leather bound book in my room, please go fetch it.”

“Are you serious?” Zelena can’t believe his stupidity.

“Yes, yes,” the doctor says nonchalantly. “It'll be fine.”

Zelena shrugs. It won't be her head that ends up on a pike if this whole thing turns south. She straightens the jacket of her olive green skirt suit and makes her way upstairs to retrieve the book.

“I'll have it back to you as soon as I'm finished with it,” Isabella chimes in and manages to gulp down the last bit of tea. She can feel the burning sensation in her stomach slowly extinguishing.

“I trust that you will, Mrs. Gold,” the doctor replies politely. It's her husband that he's more concerned about.

Alasdair and Dr. Whale engage in a brutal stare down, as Isabella wonders why the atmosphere in the room is so thick. She’s feeling a tad bit better and decides to break this awkward silence.

“Should I make myself another cup?", she asks, reaching for the tea kettle. "The first one is making me feel better already.”

“No, No, my dear.” Dr. Whale abruptly turns to her.

“Don't call her that,” Alasdair snaps.

“I mean, Mrs. Gold....” The doctor clears his throat, stepping up to the couch. “Moderation is the key to this herbal treatment. Which is why Zelena will be a vital part of your recovery. She knows the doses and will administer them to you daily,” he explains. “Too much can be harmful to you and the baby. Too little will bring you back to this state.”

“Oh, I see.” She rests her empty cup down on the silver tray. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Mrs. Gold. You didn't know.” Whale flashes a compassionate grin. Though he hates the husband with every fiber of his being, he can see why The Dark One chose Isabella. There's so much light in her, a quality he might have wanted to instill in his child.

“Which is why she needs the book!”, Alasdair protests.

Zelena suddenly returns with the book and hands it to Alasdair, who she thinks so desperately needed it.

“You can give that to my wife.” Alasdair folds his hands behind his back. “No one would take it from her.”

“Hehehe,” Isabella dissolves into soft giggles, covering her smile with her left hand. She's starting to feel another one of the effects of her herbal tea. “You're so serious, Alasdair.” She snatches the book from Zelena. “No one would take it from her,” she tries to imitate his rich Scottish accent. “I don't even know what you mean by that,” she slurs, blinking her eyes to focus her blurring vision. “But why have you been so serious lately?” Stands to her feet, clutching the book against her chest.

Alasdair watches as his previously immobilized wife totters towards him.

“Why have you been so fucking serious?” Sluggishly pats him on the cheek, smacking her moistening lips. “We’re having a baby.” Scuffles out of the room. “I thought you'd be happier than this.”

Alasdair watches Isabella as she struggles to open the front door of the B&B. “What the hell was that?” He turns to the doctor, eye broad with disbelief. It's like Isabella is intoxicated.

“That, my dubious friend, is your healing wife.” Dr. Whale crosses his arms, glaring confidently at Alasdair. “You better get her home. It's her first dose and it’ll take some time before she gets used to it. She's going to want to sleep that off.”

Alasdair promptly hobbles after her. He glad to see that's she's up on her one once again, but her mind is in a state where she doesn’t seem to have much control.

“I'll be calling to check up in a few days,” Whale adds, as Zelena follows after them carrying the items they left behind.

 

##  **•••••••**

_[One week later]_

Since seeing Dr. Whale and continuing the daily regimen of herbal treatments, Isabella’s state of health has drastically changed. The radiant glow of an expecting mother has returned to her face and she's able to keep down every meal she eats. Her body has started to return to its normal weight and she's slowly gaining. Isabella couldn't be more grateful for Dr. Whale and Zelena. They've helped put her pregnancy back on the right path.

Dr. Whale was granted a stay at the Storybrooke Hospital but hasn't yet performed the first ultrasound with Isabella. She must be eighteen to twenty weeks along before the procedure can be done, but they've scheduled an appointment on her twelfth week to confirm the due date.

Alasdair doesn't know the significance of the book he was able to pry away from the doctor, but with how unwilling Whale was to show Isabella anything from it, Alasdair believes it may hold some importance. He's kept the book hidden since the day they brought it home. He doesn't want Zelena, who's been lurking around their house on a daily basis, to find the book and take it back to the doctor before he and Isabella can go through it together.

He isn't expecting to find a way to get out of his deal in the book. He knows The Dark One would never trust his minions to hold the key to breaking the contract. But he wants to find some understanding as to why his family was chosen. He's hoping that maybe the book could be the doctor’s instructions from The Dark One, but then again, that would be too simple.

##  **~~**

Alasdair and Isabella have both taken a leave from work while she regains her strength. He's looked after his wife and has followed the instructions the doctor has given them earlier in the week. The test results for Isabella's blood work came back positive for the virus and she must continue the treatment until the baby is born. Alasdair knew that would be the precise outcome when Whale called about the alleged testing. They all want Isabella to believe she has this virus so that she doesn't question what's really happening to her body. It breaks Alasdair's heart to see his wife surround by all of these lies and knowing that he's the biggest liar of them all. He needs to find a way to get them out of The Dark One’s clutches. So they can work on being a happy family and truly heal from what they've lived through.

After giving Isabella her first herbal treatment of the day, Alasdair Gold kicks Zelena out of their house. He now enters the bedroom he shares with his beloved wife, carrying a tray with the steak lunch he cooked for her. She's been getting used to the tea’s effects and has started to gain an appetite after taking it.

“I hope you're hungry, sweetheart.” He rests the tray on the nightstand by the bed.

“You know I am.” She gazes up at him, closing her book.

“What are you reading?” He sits on the edge of the bed.

“Trashy romance novel.” Tosses the book across the room. “I can’t finish that. It's so bad.” She giggles and sits up on her knees on the bed, scooting over to Alasdair. She presses her body against his back and wraps her arms around his shoulders. “I never thanked you.” She nuzzles his neck.

“Thanked me? For what?” Her thanks are the last thing he deserves.

“For getting me to Dr. Whale.” She peppers his neck with sweet kisses. “I felt like I was going to die.”

“You don't have to thank me for that.” He cups the back of her head. “It's my job to take care of you and the baby.”

“I know it is, honey, but I still wanted to thank you for it.”

He remains hushed, can't bring himself to accept her gratitude. She wouldn't have felt like she was about to die if he hadn't gotten them into this horrifying deal.

“I’m going to start looking through that book the doctor gave us.” She massages his shoulders. “So I can get it back to him.”

“Alright. I'll get it for you later and we can go through it together.”

“Okay.” She kisses his cheek, trailing her lips to his ear and takes the earlobe between her teeth.

“Oh, Belle,” he groans.

“Can I ask you something, baby?” she whispers.

“You can ask me anything.”

“Can we start telling people that I'm pregnant?” She kisses his cheek again. “I know we had that little scare, but that's not going to happen again. We have one of the best doctors on our side and I have such a loving and nurturing husband. I'm ready to tell the world that our child is coming into it.”

“I don't know, Belle. I was thinking we could keep it to ourselves.” He can't bring himself to tell anyone about the pregnancy. Shameful of the way the baby came to be.

Though he can't see her expression, she squints at him, confused by his thoughts. “I'm going to be showing soon.” She massages his shoulder firmer. Maybe he didn't mean what he said. “We can't keep it to ourselves forever.”

“I know that, but…”

“But what?” She cuts him off, stopping the massaging motion of her hands and falls back into the bed. When he said but, she knew that he meant what he said. “What wrong with you?” She crosses her arms. “You’ve been so salty to the doctor and Zelena who have done nothing but help us. And now you don't want to tell anyone about something that brings us so much joy. This isn't like you…. Sometimes I feel -- sometimes I feel.” She takes pause, can't believe the words that are sitting on her tongue.  

He crosses one leg in the bed, turning to face her. “Sometimes you feel what? Just say it.”

She takes a deep breath before divulging her feelings. “Sometimes I feel like you don't want the baby. Like getting pregnant was a mistake.”

“No, Belle, that's not it at all.” He takes her by the wrist and pulls her into him, holding her against his chest. “I want the baby,” he says sincerely. There's nothing in this world that he wants more than this child. “I love the baby and I don't want it to be with anyone but us.” He rests his cheek upon her head. “I just think we should wait on telling anyone. We should make sure you’re treatments are really working. That's all.”

“No. That's not it at all.” She pulls out of his embrace. “You've been acting like this before I got sick. Why are you lying?”

Alasdair gazes at his wife at a loss for words. She saw right through his misdirection.

“You’re not going to answer me, are you?”

He remains silent. There's no way he can answer her without revealing the most devastating news she'll ever hear in her life.

“I thought so.” She scoots herself out of the bed and takes her lunch tray from the nightstand.

“Isabella, wait, where are you going?”

“I'm going to watch tv. At least that will talk to me.” She marches towards the door.

“Please don't go,” he whimpers.

She stops before the door but doesn't turn to face him.

“Remember the conversation we had when you locked yourself in the bathroom?”

“How could I forget.”

“I still feel that way. I'm scared as shit to be a father again and the ordeal you just went through made it all worse,” he confesses. Everything he says is the truth, but only half of it. “My fear is rubbing off on you as if I don't want the baby. That's not true. It's the furthest idea from the truth. I'm trying to get over this, I really am, and I’m going to prove it to you that I am trying.”

She turns to face him, hands gripping tightly on the tray. “How?”

He digs into the right pocket of his casual weekend jeans and takes out his phone. He flips open the device and dials the number of his oldest child. Then places the phone to his ear. “Hey, son.” He smiles, hearing Neal’s voice always warms his heart. “Yes, I'm fine, I'm fine,” he answers his son's question.

Isabella beams at her husband, coming to realize what he's called his son about. She returns to the bed with a spring in her step and rests the tray back on the nightstand, taking the seat next to Alasdair.

“We're both fine. Actually, we’re better than that, more like overjoyed.” He looks to Isabella. The sparkle in her eyes has returned and that's exactly what he hoped would happen when he made this call. “We have something to tell you. It's the most incredible news, but I'm going to let you hear it from Belle, okay?.... Hold on just a moment.” He hands her the phone and rests his head on her shoulder. “I'm sorry I wanted to keep you from telling people about the pregnancy,” he says softly so that his voice doesn't travel through the phone. “It's your body and I shouldn't have tried to possess the sweet little bundle growing in it.”

She covers the receiving end of the phone with her left hand. “Thank you for finally telling me the truth.”

“You're owed a lot more.”

 

##  **•••••••**

Nighttime has fallen upon the Gold’s manner as they both lie asleep in bed. Isabella’s body is saturated with sweat and her mind enters a stage of sleep it's never traveled to.

She tosses and turns, pulling the blanket off of her overheated body, mumbling in her deep slumber.

Alasdair is kneed in the back by his wife and instantly awakes, turning on the dim reading lamp. He gazes at her, fear-stricken in his eyes, as he notices how trapped and terrified she appears. He's never seen anyone caught in a dream. “Isabella?”, he calls out to her, hoping it will be enough to wake her.

She turns to her right in the fetal position. “Mmm…. N -- no,” she mutters.

He leans over her, gently stroking her head. “Isabella, please, wake up.”

“No…. No!”, she lets out a gut-wrenching howl and the faint light of the lamp intensifies, brightening the entire room, before the bulb shatters, returning the bedroom to darkness.

Alasdair takes hold of Isabella as his eyes travel around the nearly pitch black room, knowing that The Dark One must be here. He has to be upset about the book no longer being in the doctor’s possession and must come to collect it. Alasdair protects his wife, holding her tightly in the darkness, waiting for the beast to rear its ugly head, but he never arrives. The Dark One’s absence only leaves Alasdair to wonder who the powerful being was that knocked out the light of the lamp in an instant. It couldn't have been the work of the petite Aussie wrapped in his arms.

Alasdair doesn't understand what’s happening or why his beloved won't awake, but he's going to do what he can to bring her back to him. He quickly sits up and turns Isabella onto her back, then tips the broken lamp to the floor. He needs an explanation as to why the light is out, he can't possibly tell her that she might killed it with a single cry.  

The Dark One said this pregnancy would unlike any other, but he never mentioned anything about magical abilities. Could Isabella be conjuring this magic on her own or is it from the little one developing inside her?

However, Alasdair has no time to reflect this inquiry. He must make an attempt to wake Isabella once again. He kisses her brow, murmuring sweet nothings upon her flesh, desperately trying to bring her back to the waking world. “Please, Belle—” kisses her head again— “please wake up.”

Her breathing deepens and her eyes move rapidly back and forth behind closed lids.

He pulls the blanket up under her neck, her skin is so cold, and rests his brow upon hers. He lightly skims his nose across the tip of hers and strokes her clammy cheek, begging to see the light of her eyes again. “Please, Isabella.” A single tear falls from his eye. He brushes away the hair stuck to her face and presses his lips against hers. He doesn't know what caused him to attempted this kiss, but it seems to be exactly what she needed.

Isabella instantly opens her eyes, taking in a sharp breath. She sits up in bed and folds her knees to her chest, shivering with cold chills.

“Belle!”, he calls to with relief and comes to her comfort from another strange ordeal, but she instantly refuses the loving embrace of his arms.

“Don't touch me!”, she demands, moving away from him.

“Okay, okay.” He scoots back as well and stares at her. The luminescent light of the moon peeks through the cracks of the window shade and casts shadows on her face. Even in the darkness, he can see how horrified she is. What hell has she just lived through?

She catches her breath, clearing the sweat from her face, trying to gain control of her jitters. “I'm here?” She looks down at the palms of her hands, opening and closing them.

“Yes, sweetheart, you're here. Are you alright?”

“I just -- I just need a moment.”

“Alright—” he sits on the edge of the bed— “alright. You take all the time you need.” Slips his feet into his black house shoes, so that he doesn't step on broken glass. He stands and limps to the wall, turning on the overhead light.

“Where are you going?”, she asks, pulling more of the blanket over her.

“I'm going to get you some water and the broom to sweep up the glass.”

“Glass?”

“You kicked me and I knocked over the lamp,” he lies, unsure of the truth himself.

She glances over at the nightstand on his side of the bed and finds the lamp missing. “I'm sorry,” she mutters.

“It's alright, my love. You have nothing to apologize for. I'm fine.”

“Okay.” She sniffed, wiping her nose.

“I'll be right back.”

“Okay.”

Alasdair takes his cane from the wall and makes his way downstairs for a cup of fresh ice water and the broom.

Isabella remains in the bed, collecting her thoughts from the vivid nightmare she envisioned. The last time she has such a vibrant dream, it was pleasant, and about sex with her husband.

Alasdair returns to the room and hands her the glass of water, then sweeps up the mess from the floor.

“I can do that, sweetie,” she says, holding the cup to her lips.

“It's okay, Belle—” collects the glass in a pile on the hardwood floor. “I’ve got it. You just drink your water.”

She takes a large swallow, drinking half of the water, and gasps. The entire experience has been draining. Her heart still hammers in her narrow chest, but she's slowly starting to feel more like herself again. “Aren't you going to ask me about it?”

“I thought I'd wait till you were ready to tell me.” He bends to the floor, brushing the broken light bulb into the dustpan and picks up the lamp, resting it back on the nightstand.  

She drinks the remaining water from the cup and sits the glass on the table. “I think I'm ready to tell you now.”

“Alright, my love. Give a second to get rid of this.”

She nods.

He exits the room and hobbles to the bathroom, dumping the glass in the trash and leaves the broom and pan leaning against the wall. He re-enters their bedroom and sits on the bed, supporting his back on the headboard.

Isabella immediately crawls up to him, nestling underneath his arms. She feels so safe against his body. “It was like I couldn't escape. I couldn't wake myself up no matter how hard I tried,” she explains to her husband. The sense of helplessness she experienced was unreal. “I was being chased, but I never saw what was coming after me. I just felt it there. Everything around me grew darker and darker and there was a light in front of me, but I could never get to it. Then it caught me.”

He drapes both arms around her and rests his cheek upon her head. “What caught you, Belle?”

“The darkness.” Tears fall from her eyes. Even talking about it makes it feel as though it's still happening.

Alasdair kisses her head, again and again, holding her securely, letting her know that he won't let her go unless he asks her to.

The darkness which she speaks must the golden-fleshed beast, but why is he terrifying Isabella in her slumber? He's gotten everything he wants up to this point. What's the reason behind striking fear in an innocent pregnant woman?

“I felt it on top of me,” Isabella goes on to say. “Holding me down, and whispering in my ear.”

“That was me, Isabella. I held you and whispered to you.”

“No—” she grips tightly on his crimson silk pajama shirt— “it wasn't you.”  

The last time she felt a presence in her dream, he was certain it was The Dark One. “Was it him again?”, he asks, needing to know for sure if he has returned to her.

“Him?” She lifts her head from his chest and gazes her teary blue eyes up at him.

“The last time you had a dream—” he dries the tears from her cheek— “it was about us having sex, but you felt a third person with us. Was he the one holding you down?”

“No.” She takes a ruffled breath. “I don't think so.” The presence in that dream as erotic and welcoming. It was almost like she had two versions of her husband.

“When who was it?”

“I don't know.” She closes her eyes, slightly shaking her head. Disbelieving of what was revealed to her in the dream. “I don't know, but they told me who they were.” She lays back on his chest. “They said they were our child.”  

“What?... Are you sure?” He rests his hand on her stomach.

The baby hasn't had much time to develop. Could this mixed child from a human and magical entity, truly come to its mother and speak to her in a dream? What could be the reason that this child would ever frighten her? Could it be more dark than light?

“I couldn't see their face,” Isabella adds. “I couldn’t tell if it was a boy or a girl, but they claimed to be our baby, Alasdair. They talked to me.”

“What did they say to you?”

“They said—” she looks back up at him, tighten her grip around him— “they said; You've been lied to. Nothing in your world is as it seems. Nothing in your world is a reality.”

Alasdair's heart sinks to the pit of his stomach. Those are not the words of an unborn child. They're the speaking of a much more vile creature. Knowing that he's appeared in her dreams once before angered Alasdair, and now that he appeared again with malice intends to scare them both, infuriates him.

“What do you think that means?”, he asks, seeking to know her feeling about the phrase. She could believe it was about him, which would be the absolute truth, but she could also think that it's all just random.

“I don't know what to think about it,” she answers honestly. “It makes no sense to me.”

He cups the back of her head, pulling her to his lips and softly kisses her forehead. “Why we're yelling no?”, breathes upon her skin.

“Because I refused to believe that I was talking to our child.”

“Did they say anything to convince you that they were who they claimed?”

“I don't remember. Everything got muddled with you trying to wake me. The dream world around me was spinning and their voice was fading.”

“That wasn't our child, Isabella,” he states boldly, having no doubt as to whom it was. “It couldn't have been.”

“I know, Alasdair, I know.” She climbs into his lap and nuzzles his warm neck. “It was just my self-conscious telling me that I’m just as afraid of parenthood like you are.”

“None of this was supposed to happen.” He rakes his fingers through her long chestnut curls. “This isn't how things are supposed to be for you. We both so happy when we decided to have a baby, now we’re both just fucked up. I'm so angry right now, Isabella.”

“Why?” She lifts her head, stroking her hand through his shoulder length silver threads. “It was just a dream, baby. Yes, it was scary and it felt real, but it was all just in my head. I’m okay.”

“I did that to you. I put that fear in you with the way I've been acting.”

“No, you didn't.” She hugs him dearly. “I did that to myself.”

He only wishes he could tell her that were true.

They hold each other, unable to let the other go, still shaken up from the terror struck within them. Isabella may not understand what has happened or what she was able to do in her state of rest, but Alasdair knows this was all a scare tactic acted out by The Dark One and he won't allow himself to sit back take it. They are not his puppets to pull on their strings whenever he feels fit to play with them.

Alasdair will have a meeting with the golden leather clad imp. His little game is in breach of their contract. Isabella was to never be harmed in any way. This nightmare left her hurt and broken. He's going to make sure he never enters her dreams again.

Isabella lifts her head from Alasdair’s shoulder and cups the back of his neck, longing into his dark chocolate eyes. The sensation of the nightmare feeling like reality is still rippling through her and she doesn't think she’ll get much more sleep tonight. Isabella draws her husband into her and moistens her lips, then presses them to his, stealing away his breath.

“Mmm…,” he hums, melding into her welcome kiss.

Her hand slips down and caresses his chest, making her way to the front of his pants.

“What are you doing, Belle?” He stops her traveling hand.

“I don't think I’ll be able to go back to sleep.” she slowly grinds against his lap.

“Ugh,” he moans, biting his bottom lip. The gyration of her hips upon always turns him on. “I won't be able to sleep either.”

“I know what we can do to pass the time.”

“Belle,” he heavily breathes, planting his hands on her hips, stopping their rolling motion. “You've just had a nightmare. This doesn't feel right.”

“I know, but not feeling right is going to make it feel so good.” She steals a kiss from his lips. “Will you fuck me, sweetie?”, her warm breath breathes upon him. “Help me forget it all.”

He fixes on her yearning eyes, wanting her just as much as she wants him. But he has to make certain that this is what she truly wants. They both felt vulnerable and helpless moments ago. He doesn't want this to feel as though their taking advantage of each other. He lays her down on the bed and rests his hips between her thighs. “Are you sure, Belle?” he asks, firmly kneading her left breast over the silk black nightgown. His hand skates down her body, making his way inside her ebony panties, combing his fingers through her dark mound of curls.

“Yes—” she scales her hands down his back, scratching him over the shirt— “I’m sure, baby.”

“So am I.” He slips two fingers between her damp lips, she isn't as moist as he's used to, but that’ll all change soon.

“Mmm…”, she hums sensually as he grazes over her swelling clit.  

He gently glides his talented fingers inside her, penetrating her opening knuckles deep, feeling her become wetter every time he pulls out. “I'll help you forget it, my love,” he groans thickly.

“Ah… Ah… Ah!”, she cries in ecstasy, arching her back. “Yes!”

 

##  **•••••••**

 

The next morning after a night of mind-numbing sex, a few hours of pillow talk and barely getting any sleep, Alasdair follows Zelena to the kitchen. He peeks through the door, watching her prepare the first dose of the day's tea for Isabella. She's always so secretive of how to prepare the brew. Today he's going to force her to tell him how she makes it and how to summon The Dark One.

Zelena fills the tea kettle with cold water and sits it on the stove to heat.

Alasdair lurks up behind her as quietly as he can without shuffling his broken leg or tapping his cane on the tile floor. He stands behind her back and suddenly grabs her left arm, shoving her against the stainless steel french door refrigerator, stepping up into her personal space.

“Oh!” Her back makes a thud when she hits the kitchen appliance. “It's you,” she purrs, eyes beaming at him with a coquettish glare. Being treated so ruggedly was a welcomed surprise. She's been waiting for a moment like this since the day she knocked on his door. She just never anticipated it to come so soon. “You've grown tired of the dull wife, I see, and now you've come to me for something more exciting. I always knew you were an animal.”

“I have come to you—” snarls through his teeth— “but not for what you think.”

“I'm up for anything you have in mind, sweetpea.” She taps the tip of his nose with her pointing finger. “But are you sure you want to do this while the wife is awake? I can brew up something in a flash that will put her out like a light.” She nibbles on her bottom lip, lightly scraping her forest green nails over his lift cheek.

“You won't be making anything—” he takes her hand and pushes it away— “that’s going to put her out. In fact, you won't ever be making anything for her again,” he states threateningly.”

She flashes a cocksure grin, cackling in the back of her throat. “And what makes you think that?” Crosses her arms, tipping her head to the left.

“Because you're going to tell me how to make the tea—” lowers his brow— “and then you're going to show me how to summon The Dark One.”

“Ha!”, she loudly exclaimed, misting his face with a slight shower of spit. “That's rich.” Turns her head away. “Like I've said before, what makes you think that?”

“Because—” turns her back to face him, glaring dead in her blue eyes— “I'm going to make you.” He holds his cane by the shaft and rests the gold handle underneath her chain, threatening her without saying single words of what he'll do.

“That actually sounds like a pretty good time.” She places her hand over his wrapped around the cane and helps guide him in lifting her head. “It sounds like a very good time.”

“Great.” He gradually lifts the cane above her with a fiendish gleam in his eye. “I think I'll start with your teeth.”

“Wait!” She stops the cane before crashing down upon her. She never thought he truly had it in him. “You really are that pathetically desperate, aren't you?”

“More desperate than you know.”

“Fine, fine, I'll help you.”  

He lowers the cane to the floor. “That’s all I wanted to hear.” Takes a step back.

“But I will only do one or the other,” she immediately adds. “I will not do both.” The tea kettle on the stove starts to whistle and she paces over to turn off the heat. “You have a choice to make,” she says, turning back to him.

Alasdair takes a moment to assess the situation. He can understand why Zelena will only help with one, revealing both will take away all of her leverage. His choice must benefit the cause of freeing his family from The Dark One’s hold. So he comes to the conclusion that being able to summon the beast is far more important than brewing tea. “I want you to show me how to call him.”

“I knew you'd pick that one.”

“It was the better choice.” he slowly steps up to her, backing her against the stove. “But if you ever slip anything into my wife's drink, I will start with your teeth.”

She laughs gleefully in his face. “You really are thick, aren't you? I can see why he picked you.”  She takes a step forward so that she's not penned against the stove.“You do know he would kill me if I ever did anything to her. He can do far worse things than you could ever do to me.”

“I can still make you suffer.”

“I’m sure you can, sweetpea.” She winks and steps past him to her bag resting on the center island counter.

“You need to tell me how to call him, now!”, he demands, losing every ounce of patience he has with her.

“That's what I'm doing.” She tears off the corner of an envelope and writes down a single word. “You have to say his name.” Folds the paper.

“I know his name. It's Dark One.” He's said that name many times and he's never shown himself.

She laughs once again. “That's only one of his many names.” She takes his hand and slips the note inside. “You have say his true name.”

He opens the folded paper and quickly reads what she wrote. “Rumple-- wh-what?” Gapes up at her. “What the fuck is this?” He doesn't speak the full name scribbled on the paper. He thinks this is one last ploy of hers to screw with him, but what she's written down is the absolute truth.

“That, my sweet, is the name of a god.”


End file.
